The man dropped the hay bale and propped his foot up on it. “You’ve got my attention,” he said as he snatched the money.
“Do you know a Travis Taylor who worked here a few months back?” Reaper asked.
“Yeah. Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“What makes you think that?”
“You look like the kind of guy who’d be here for trouble.”
Reaper shrugged. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. But I’m actually here to make sure Mr. Taylor gets his inheritance.”
“Is he gonna be a millionaire?”
“I can’t discuss any details, but let’s just say he could own this ranch if he wanted to with what his uncle left him.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Well, in that case, I’d hate for him to miss out. He told me not to say anything, but he told me he was headed out west to some ranch in Oregon.”
“Do you remember the name of the ranch?”
“I think it was called Sheepshead Ranch or something like that.”
Reaper handed the man another hundred dollar bill. “I appreciate the information. You’ve been most helpful.”
“Don’t forget to tell him that Tony told you where he was,” the man said. “Maybe he’ll send me a thank you gift.”
Reaper chuckled. “Don’t hold your breath.”
CHAPTER 8
Bogotá, Colombia
HAWK STRAIGHTENED HIS TIE as he studied it in the hotel bathroom mirror. He picked a few pieces of lint off the lapel of his suit jacket and then smoothed out his shirt.
“Honey, we need to get going,” Hawk called to Alex.
“Just one more minute,” she said.
Hawk walked into the bedroom and found her staring with sad puppy dog eyes at her phone. “What are you doing? We can’t be late.”
“I know,” she said, glancing up at him. “But I miss John Daniel so much. Isn’t he so cute?”
Hawk sighed and nodded. “Yes, he’s cute. But tell me, how many times have you watched that video he sent you from last night?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Just give me a ballpark figure.”
“Maybe thirty or forty.”
He noticed tears welling up in her eyes. “Hey, come here,” he said, gesturing for her to give him a hug. “Nobody said this was going to be easy.”
The dam in her eyes broke. “I know, I know,” she said between sobs. “It’s just that I didn’t think it would be this hard. I miss him so much. I miss reading him bedtime stories. I miss tucking him in at night. I miss him telling me about his dreams at breakfast in the morning. I miss everything about that little guy.”
“I feel the same way,” Hawk said. “We’ll see him soon enough.”
“I just don’t know how much longer I can do this. I thought it would be easy, but now, I’m not so sure.”
He hugged her tighter and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s just take it one assignment at a time. I know we told Morgan that we’re both in, but that doesn’t mean it has to be this way forever, okay?”
She sniffled as she nodded.
“Now, you might want to take another look at your mascara before we go,” he said. “But make it quick. Brownfield is expecting us at the agency at 9 a.m. sharp.”
* * *
HAWK AND ALEX entered the U.S. embassy on time and found Ambassador Brownfield waiting for them in the lobby. He offered a weak smile and his right hand.
Hawk and Alex both shook it, pretending like nothing happened the night before.
“I appreciate you coming down from the State Department to take a look at what we’re doing,” Brownfield said, selling the ruse as convincingly as he could.
After Brownfield had given up the names of several agents he claimed would have access to the undercover DEA agents, they agreed to conduct interviews as part of a State Department evaluation of the embassy. Brownfield could send in a handful of his upper level employees, preventing the arousal of suspicion that something was amiss.
Sandwiched between some of the office staff, Hawk and Alex interviewed the first two people on Brownfield’s list. Neither one of them offered anything of substance and didn’t seem like much more than lackeys with an extra level of clearance. However, that wasn’t the case with the third and final name Brownfield had written down, a man by the name of Leo Turner.
Turner was a seasoned State Department employee, who’d taken posts at several South American embassies during his twenty years of employment. Turner, who sported trendy dreadlocks and thick-rimmed glasses, smiled as he sat down across from Hawk and Alex.
“Buenos días,” Turner said, shaking their hands. “Welcome to Colombia.”
“Gracias,” Alex said. “Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to meet with us.”
“Of course,” Turner said. “What do you want to know?”
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Hawk said. “We’re trying to shore up some security weaknesses and would like your input on what shortcomings you might have noticed during your time here.”
“You think there’s a mole in this office?” Turner asked. “Because I’ve been thinking the same thing for a while now.”
Hawk leaned forward and nodded. “Let’s hear it.”
Turner shrugged. “I don’t how to say this, so I’ll put it as delicately as possible: There are more people that have access to sensitive information in this office than should be allowed.”
“Go on,” Hawk said.
“There’s one person in particular who has full access yet is loose with the way he handles security protocol.”
Alex nodded. “And who is that?”
“Ambassador Brownfield.”
Hawk furrowed his brow. “How so?”
“It’s no secret that he likes to drink a little too much, but he also has a girlfriend.”
“A girlfriend?” Alex asked. “Isn’t he married?”
Turner rolled his eyes. “Like that matters when you’re on an assignment like this one. His wife has only been to visit him once in the past three years, and the ambassador has only returned home a couple of times. And it’s kind of known in this business that if your family isn’t with you, this kind of stuff is going on.”
“Go on,” Alex said.
Turner shrugged. “I don’t know what there’s to go on about. Maria Sanchez is his girlfriend and has been for quite some time. She’s got ties to the Vargas cartel.”
“Really?” Hawk asked, his eyebrows shooting upward.
Turner nodded. “Yeah, that’s why it surprised everyone here. We even warned him and he dismissed it, like it wasn’t a big deal and we were making too much of it.”
“What kind of ties to the cartel does Sanchez have?” Alex asked.
“She used to be one of Hector Vargas’ side ladies, if you know what I mean,” Turner said. “So, it wouldn’t surprise me if their breakup was manufactured so she could get the skinny on what was happening with the DEA from Brownfield.”
“But you have no proof?” Alex asked.
“Nothing definitive,” Turner said. “Just a hunch.”
“A hunch?” Hawk asked.
“There were some strange things happening around the time that the ambassador started seeing Sanchez.”
Hawk scratched down a few notes on his pad. “Such as?”
“Brownfield had his first meeting with Hector Vargas.”
Hawk stroked his chin. “And that’s unusual?”
“Yeah,” Turner said. “We were all warned to stay away from Vargas and anyone affiliated with him when we arrived here. But the ambassador, who’d held tightly to that directive, abandoned it once Sanchez entered his life.”
“Anything else?” Alex asked.
Turner listed a few other anomalies that he said wouldn’t be much of a big deal in and of themselves, but together it created a compelling case against the relationship.
“Thank you for your service here, Mr. Turner,” Hawk said. “You can be dismis
sed.”
Turner exited the room, leaving Hawk and Alex to discuss what they’d just heard.
“What do you think?” Alex asked.
“Makes sense to me,” Hawk said. “Lonely guy takes up with a Vargas mistress. Suddenly, DEA agents go missing. I know correlation doesn’t equal causation, but this seems like the kind of situation where if there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
“Agreed,” Alex said. “Let’s get him in here.”
A few minutes later, Brownfield sat down and clasped his hands, placing them on the table. “So, what did you find out? Anything actionable?”
“As a matter of fact, there was,” Hawk said.
“Which person was it?” asked Brownfield, who wore a thick scowl.
“You,” Hawk said.
Brownfield cocked his head to one side and drew back. “What?”
“You heard me,” Hawk said. “You’re the leak. Well, not you directly. But you’re the source.”
“What are you talking about? I’m a patriot. I would never—”
“Maria Sanchez,” Alex said. “You failed to mention her last night.”
“We’re just friends,” Brownfield said.
“With benefits,” Hawk added.
“Look, I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but I’ve been here for quite a while and—”
“You think a spy cares about your needs?” Alex asked. “She’s simply going to leverage them to get what she wants. You of all people ought to know that. This stuff is elementary training before you assume any ambassadorship.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think—”
“Exactly,” Hawk said. “You didn’t think. And that’s why we have a problem.”
“Just let me talk to her,” Brownfield pleaded.
Hawk shook his head and pushed his pad across the table to the ambassador. “Name, number, address. Right now.”
Brownfield buried his head in his hands. “Does it have to go down like this?”
“It wouldn’t if you were more forthright with us last night,” Alex said. “But that ship has sailed. So, now we’re going to do it our way. Give us her info and we’ll be out of here.”
Brownfield complied, a sour look on his face as he scratched out the information requested.
“We’ll treat her fairly,” Hawk said. “But you better hope we’re wrong about this one. President Young won’t appreciate this type of betrayal.”
Brownfield nodded and then hung his head.
Hawk looked at Alex. “Time to go.”
CHAPTER 9
Washington, D.C.
THE ADVANTAGE OF BEING the niece of a well-connected and beloved former U.S. senator was that Morgan May could always find someone willing to help. If Washington was a machine, favors greased the gears. And Morgan preferred to work in a well-oiled state.
As soon as she left Kate Jolly’s apartment building, Morgan called Adam Carson, one of her contacts at the FBI, to alert him that a former assistant to Admiral Miller at the Pentagon was savagely murdered last night.
Carson sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I don’t know, Morgan. This reeks of a cover-up to me.”
“And that’s exactly why you need to check it out,” she said. “You can’t let them get away with this.”
“Who’s them?”
“My team thinks The Alliance is involved.”
“The Alliance?” Carson asked, his voice rising an octave. “That’s some dark web boogeyman conspiracy stuff right there. You lose all credibility in this town when you blame something on The Alliance.”
“My team has moved far beyond the speculative nature of The Alliance’s mere existence,” Morgan said. “We’ve got more than enough proof that shows this is a real organization. And if you don’t get your ass down there, Metro PD will either bungle this whole thing or have someone sweep it under the rug.”
Carson sighed. “Fine, Morgan. But only for you. Now, what is it that I’m looking for?”
“I’m not sure exactly,” she said. “But she was going to give me some files she copied from Admiral Miller’s computer. So, maybe a thumb drive or computer. I don’t know.”
“And you’re sure she had this information?”
“I guess she could’ve hustled me, but I don’t think she was the kind of person to do that. I had a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar cashier’s check for her in my pocket when I went to see her.”
“And you’re sure she was murdered?”
“I didn’t see her body, but based on the first comments one of the responding officers made to me, I’m inclined to think it was. He called it a crime scene when he first mentioned it to me before backtracking. I think he realized he should’ve been more tightlipped, which is exactly why I need you to take over before anything else is screwed up.”
“Okay, okay. I’ve already said I’ll do it,” Carson said. “I’ll head over there and see if I can get a peek at the scene before access is restricted. But I’m not making any promises.”
She thanked him and ended the call before returning to her hotel. Upon entering the lobby, she extended her stay by one more day after initially intending to leave after her conversation with Kate. But Morgan wanted to wait now and see what else turned up. If Carson could get her the information she wanted, she might be able to find out what someone was willing to kill Kate for.
Morgan checked in with her office in Los Angeles, which was just coming in for the day. She was transferred to Mia to discuss the situation.
“She’s dead?” Mia asked, disbelief dripping from her voice. “How could anyone find out what she was doing?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Morgan said. “This can’t possibly be a coincidence. So, either The Alliance was already on to her, or they learned something between the time I spoke with her and the time she was killed.”
“What if the cops suspect you?” Mia asked.
“They won’t. I’ve got a rock solid alibi and enough connections to get even the suggestion of me murdering someone dismissed out of hand.”
“Good to know. Just let me know what you need me to do when you find out more.”
Morgan was transferred to several other Magnum employees to get status reports before hanging up.
She paced the floor, her fingers interlocked and resting on top of her head.
Think, Morgan, think.
She sat down and for the third time in two days sifted through all the information Mia had compiled on Kate Jolly. Her smiling face in a photo appeared almost as an apparition, a stark reminder of how connected The Alliance was. Or at least, that was Morgan’s working theory. She had no idea how careful Kate had been. Perhaps she’d put out dozens of feelers in an attempt to get the best price. And maybe she’d found someone willing to pay her even more—but Kate ultimately was the one who paid.
“What am I missing, Kate?” Morgan asked aloud.
Two hours later, Morgan’s phone rang, breaking her trance of mulling over the details around Kate’s life. It was Agent Carson.
“Got any news for me?” Morgan asked.
“Do I ever,” Carson said. “And you owe me one, big time.”
“I’ll be happy to repay the favor. Now, what’d you find?”
“First of all, I had to pull some strings with the agency to even gain access to the crime scene,” he said. “And when I got there, the coroner was packing up along with the rest of the investigation unit. They were almost certain they were dealing with a suicide and didn’t feel the need to collect any more evidence.”
“Was the scene taped off?”
“Yes, but only out of procedure,” Carson said. “I could tell they weren’t going to look into this case any further. Everyone had already decided it was a routine suicide case and that was that. But it’s also why nobody cared that I poked around the apartment unwatched.”
“And what’d you find?”
“I found a hollowed out bottom of a desk drawer,” Carson said. “And there were several keepsake items i
nside, one of which just so happened to be a flash drive. You’re gonna want to see what’s on this device.”
“Can you bring it by?” Morgan asked. “I’m at the Marriott near the White House.”
“I’ll meet you in the lobby in half an hour.”
Thirty minutes later, Agent Carson showed up as promised. They shook hands as the flash drive subtly exchanged hands. After a brief conversation, she thanked him again and he left.
Morgan hustled back to her room and inserted the device into a port on her laptop computer and opened up a few of the files. There were a few vague references to “ALL”, which she assumed was shorthand for The Alliance. But everything else was coded more rigorously.
She dialed Agent Carson’s number and put the call on speaker. “How the hell am I supposed to make heads or tails of this?”
“I figured that’s what you do,” he said. “I’m not a cryptologist.”
“This whole file is virtually coded.”
“I didn’t look at everything, but I figured you’d know what was on there since you were willing to fork over a quarter million dollars just to look at it.”
Morgan sighed and closed her eyes. She massaged her temples with her hands. “Fine. We’ll deal with it. But based on what you said, I thought I was about to get a treasure trove of intel.”
“Maybe it will be once you crack the code,” Carson said. “Sorry it’s not more helpful to you at the moment.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re right. I’ve got people for that.”
Morgan thanked him a final time before ending the call. She then sent all the files on the flash drive to Mia.
“I can’t make heads or tails of this,” Morgan said. “What do you think?”
“It’s definitely coded information,” Mia said. “Just give me some time. I’ll figure this out for you.”
“Good,” Morgan said. “I’ve decided to head back in the morning. No use sticking around here any longer than I have to. Just let me know the minute you find out something.”
Morgan hung up and started packing for her flight the following afternoon.
When she finished, she went to the lobby and handed her ticket to the valet, who brought her car around. She headed to get dinner at one of her favorite restaurants.
The Reaper (The Phoenix Chronicles Book 2) Page 5
