Chapter 10
Fiona
I didn’t leave my house all day Sunday and communicated with Maureen only through encrypted channels. In addition to being a computer whiz and an asset to my firm, Maureen’s father works for my dad in the IRA, and I was her babysitter when we were little. These days she relays information to Dublin about what’s going on here in San Francisco. And I know in a pinch, she’s always looking out for me. With the FBI coming, she’s moved everything of value into various hiding places in our offices. She’s also created some kind of wall in our cloud server where we can put a few incriminating files so they’ll be hidden from any warrants. Thankfully, since we have Trevor onsite with Hunter right now, we’ll know immediately if anyone comes in after hours.
When I woke up this morning, I knew we were as ready as we’ll ever be.
Even when he’s not babysitting a client, Trevor spends a lot of time studying these days as he finishes the first half of his last year of law school. He got into some trouble when he was younger, and it’s taken him some doing to get back on the right path. He and I talked about his options when he started law school, and I warned him that it’s hard to pass the background check for the state, but I promised to help him.
I take a deep breath. I’m wearing a leather pencil skirt and a silk floral top with lots of ruffles, plus a leather suit jacket and three-inch heels. I may be vertically challenged, but don’t want to give anyone the idea that they can take advantage of me. Because that’s about as far from the truth as you can get.
I drink two double espressos before I walk out the door, and I have a nice buzz going. As I exit my home, I set the alarm and make sure the hidden cameras in the smoke detectors and throughout my house are working. Then I walk out to my waiting car. I have a driver this morning because it’s going to be that kind of day.
“Good morning, Ms. McPhee.”
“Good morning, Hector.” I get settled in my seat and notice a mysterious van two doors down with two men who are working hard not to make eye contact with our passing car. I also notice the two people sitting in an obviously government vehicle facing the other direction. “Hector, I may have to swing back by the house. Can you do some evasive maneuvers to check if we have a tail?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hector comes upon Alta Plaza Park, and I spot a friend. “Oh, can you stop here a moment?”
I hop out of the car and walk up to Mason. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says. “You live farther down Jackson, right?”
I nod. “I do. Cameron in your office lives three doors down from me.”
“What’s up? Any news about Hunter?”
“He had a decent weekend, I believe. And Jim’s team is pulling a lot of information. Do you want to sit down tomorrow and go through it with us? I think he’s still in shock and may need a level head helping to advise.”
“Absolutely. We don’t want to give the competition any leverage.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “Give Caroline my best!” I wave and hop back into the car.
I check my phone, and someone—likely those sketchy feds—have entered my apartment. I debate going back but decide I can check the video feed later and ruin all their listening devices.
I also see a message from Shannon that they’ve arrived at the office.
My stomach flutters. I was expecting this, but depending on who they send, they can be real ball busters. It won’t be fun. I text her back.
Me: I’m ten minutes out.
Chapter 11
Bash
As I wait in line at Paradise Bakery on Monday morning, I think back over my time with Fiona this weekend for about the millionth time. I was a little shocked when she seemed prepared to have the FBI stop by after we visited her dad on Saturday. She’s obviously not in the IRA or the gun-selling business, so I’m not sure what’s going on. But she was definitely preoccupied with everything on her plate. I’m guessing she’s going to take care of her house this morning, so I’ll make sure the feds stay within the boundaries of their warrant when they come into the office.
After I collect my box of pastries and jugs of coffee, I also pick up today’s newspaper.
“Did she send you?” a woman asks when I arrive at Fiona’s office, seeming bewildered by my presence.
“No, I’m here on my own. I’m with Clear Security, and we’ve been working on the Hunter Anderson case. Fiona mentioned that you might have some extra company today.”
“Can you verify that?” she demands.
I can tell she’s worried I’m not who I say I am. I need her not to panic. I hand her one of my business cards. “And who might you be?” I ask. “I drove Fiona out to see her dad this weekend.”
The woman’s brow furrows. “I’m Maureen O’Connor, internet security. That’s a big deal. And it’s not a secret, given that it was all over the papers. The FBI fucks with her life big time each time she visits him. She said after the last time she’d never go back.”
It isn’t my place to tell Maureen any more of what I know. Probably even the fact that I went along is something Fiona wouldn’t want to share. But before I get the chance to explain, the FBI walks in—a half dozen men, all dressed in suits and ties.
“Hello, gentlemen. I’m Sebastian Pontius with Clear Security. May I see your warrant?”
“Get out of the way,” a little guy says.
I could break him in half in a second. “Proper procedure dictates that you present us with a warrant. You may not enter the premises without it.”
“Fuck you,” he snarls.
Fine. Play it that way. I pull my phone out of my pocket and put it to my ear. “Walker Clifton, please. This is Sebastian Pontius with Clear Security.” Walker is the US Attorney for all of Northern California, and the FBI is his investigative arm. But Walker is tight with Jim. He knows us and has used us for personal matters.
The runt doesn’t seem to believe I’ve actually called Walker. I move the phone to speaker.
“Hey, Bash. What’s up?” he answers.
“Hey, man. Sorry to bother you. I’m over at Fiona McPhee’s offices, and the FBI is here trying to execute a search. But they’re not presenting a warrant.”
“Who’s in charge over there?” Walker bellows.
The runt steps forward. “This is Senior Agent Thompson, sir. Judge Contreras was supposed to sign it this morning.”
“Well, did he?”
“Our internet has been down.”
I look over at Maureen, who’s grinning a little too wide. If I had to guess, she took the internet down on the federal server, which is funny, but also against the law and could land her in jail.
I shake my head, and she disappears.
“Without the warrant, you know my office can’t do anything,” Walker tells him. “It has to be a lawful search.”
“Sir, we’ve been told that a prison inmate at Atwater has passed important information to people in this office.”
“I don’t care. Unless you have a warrant, you can’t even be in the office, because you’re intimidating Fiona McPhee or her clients. And Jesus, when are we going to stop holding a parent’s misdeeds around the necks of their children like anvils? I know Ms. McPhee personally, and if this doesn’t turn up anything, I don’t want to see you bother her again.”
“Yes, sir. The warrant just came through.”
“You’re required to give them a printed copy before you can enter,” Walker reminds him.
I can see that he’s irritated. Most FBI agents are honest, but those looking to move up quickly see someone like Fiona as a stepping-stone, and that’s not going to happen on my watch.
“You need to go get a printed copy before I will allow you entry.” I cross my arms, making it clear he needs to go through me.
His nose flares.
“Go get your warrant. Without it, you may not enter the property,” Walker bellows over the phone.
The short FBI agent turns to leave and huddles with his g
roup by the elevator. I’m watching them, and I do nothing to hide it.
“Thanks for calling, Bash. Let me know if they cause any other problems,” Walker says.
“I will.”
I hang up, and the FBI leave two men behind, I guess to make sure we don’t take off with something. They stand by the elevator. I take a seat in a glass-walled conference room that gives me a view into the front and back of the office. I pull the newspaper out and start to read. I love the smell of newsprint and the ink you get on your fingers. My granddad worked as a pressman at the Sacramento Bee, and the scent always reminds me of him. I read the paper and wait.
Ten minutes later, Fiona comes in. “Why are you here?”
A woman is on her heels. “The FBI showed up and tried to execute a warrant they didn’t have yet,” she says. “He called some guy, and they got in trouble and had to leave.”
“They’ll be back shortly,” I note.
She turns to the woman. “Thanks, Shannon. Can you ask Maureen to meet me in my office in fifteen minutes?”
Shannon leaves, and Fiona looks at me expectantly. “I didn’t ask you to do this.”
“I brought coffee and pastries.”
“Why are you here, Bash?” she asks.
“I figured you were dealing with them at your house.”
“They entered my home after I left this morning. I need to get online and view the recordings.”
“I’ll do that,” I tell her. “I called Walker earlier, and he was pissed at the senior agent, who was too aggressive. Told him they needed to leave you alone, and they can’t keep holding you responsible for your father’s misdeeds.”
Fiona’s shoulders relax. “Walker is a friend,” she says softly.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
She sees my posture change. “Not the same kind of friend as you are. I do work for him on the private side.”
She reaches for my arm, and her touch sears me.
“I had a nice time on Saturday with you,” I say, just loud enough for her to hear.
“I did, too. I’m sorry if I was rude when I asked you to leave,” she whispers.
I shrug. “Usually I can’t get out fast enough. It was the first time I’d ever wanted to stay. I guess it’s payback.”
She grins. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“I get it. And because I called Walker, I’ll stick around for a bit.”
“Thank you.” Fiona kisses my cheek, and I’m over the moon.
She leaves me in the conference room, and I return to reading the paper and keeping an eye on my email.
It isn’t long until the FBI returns, and they’re a bigger group than before. Fiona catches her breath. I step out and stand with her.
“Ms. McFee, I’m Senior Agent Zardari.”
I don’t see Agent Thompson anywhere.
“We apologize for the intrusion. We won’t be long. Ms. McPhee, when you met with your father on Saturday in Atwater, did he give you any messages?”
“He’s dying, and he told me he loved me. He knew you would be here doing this, and he apologized in advance.”
“I’m sorry about your father. Are you two close?”
“Not particularly. He’s been in jail for almost two decades. This was the first time I could touch him since my mother’s death twelve years ago.”
“What did you talk about?” Agent Zardari asks as his team fans out and begins to look around.
“I’m sure you’ve listened to the recordings, but he told me he was going to see my mother, which means he’s accepted that he’s going to die. He told me not to come back, that there were too many eyes.”
“What about his estate in Ireland?”
“He mentioned that. I know it’s a house that’s rented to a single mother in the Dublin suburbs, and I report it on his taxes every year. The income is less than twenty thousand dollars. So, after it’s sold and converted to US dollars, I’m not even sure I can take a good vacation.”
“We obviously take different kinds of vacations,” Agent Zardari says with a grin.
She gives him a strained smile. She knows better than to be disarmed by a nice federal agent.
“How did you get your start in this business?” he asks.
“I’ve been interviewed over eighty times. I’m sure you know the answer to that question. But let me be clear. I graduated from Convent of the Sacred Heart Catholic High School on Broadway. I attended Santa Clara University on a full-ride scholarship. And I went to Loyola for law school—all Catholic schools. I had to petition to take the bar since my father was an admitted IRA member and an illegal gun seller. I’ve worked for absolutely everything I have. I don’t take anything I didn’t earn. And before you get like some of these assholes, I didn’t get on my back or my knees for anyone.”
He holds up his hands. “Thank you. We’ll get out of your hair.”
The FBI agents line up and leave.
As they go, Fiona calls to Detective Zardari. “The four agents who entered my home illegally this morning and placed what I suspect are illegal cameras and wiretaps—do I take that up with you or with US Attorney Clifton?”
His eyes go wide as saucers. “Do you have proof?”
Fiona asks Shannon to get her laptop. She fires it up and calls up her home cloud. “Here I am leaving.” The video shows no movement for two minutes and goes dark. Five minutes later, the recording restarts. Four men come in and begin walking around.
“Do you know who these men are?”
Agent Zardari nods.
“What the fuck is he doing in my bedroom?” Fiona is visibly agitated.
I’m horrified to watch a man masturbate where just a day ago, Fiona and I were together in her bed.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Fiona is livid, and I understand completely.
I’m at a loss and white-hot angry. “Who do we report this to?” I ask, my knuckles white. “There is absolutely no fucking way she should be treated like this.”
We watch them place cameras throughout the house, including in her shower. “I’ll be bringing this up with Walker Clifton,” I tell him. “This is completely unacceptable. There’s no mention of wiretaps or video in her home or office. The warrant doesn’t even cover her home.”
Agent Zardari seems as horrified as we are. “I will be bringing this up with my supervisor as well. I can’t justify any reason for such reckless and horrible behavior. Can you send me the video?”
Fiona nods.
Agent Zardari leads his team out. “I’ll be in touch.”
I’m on the phone with Jim immediately.
“Hey, are you coming in?” he asks in greeting.
“Yeah, in a bit. I need someone to go over to Fiona’s house and strip her bed and clean her house from top to bottom.”
Jim is hyper alert. “What happened?”
I explain what’s transpired this morning, at her office and at her home, including what the asshole did and everything they touched. I ask that Jim has a team sweep for bugs and listening devices.
“Got it covered,” he says. “Assure her that we’ll have it cleaned from top to bottom.”
“Thanks. Once things here calm down, I’ll be in.”
“Make Fiona a priority.”
“On it.” He has no idea how on it I’ll be.
I wander around looking for Fi, and I catch her as she comes out of the bathroom. Her eyes are slightly red-rimmed. I tell her what I’ve asked Jim to do for her. “Tonight, please stay with me at my place,” I suggest.
“That’s not necessary.” There’s a slight catch in her voice, and I know this incident has rocked her.
“Yes, it is. The cleaning crew will fix everything and collect all the bugs and cameras, but let’s just grab something to eat tonight and head back to my place.”
She takes a deep breath. I know she’s conflicted, but I’m insisting.
She finally agrees.
“I’ll be back at six thirty to pick
you up. I’ll figure out dinner. We can Netflix and chill.”
The corners of her mouth turn up, and she shakes her head.
***
When I arrive at the Clear Security office an hour or so later, Jim motions for me to meet with him. I nod and get a few things settled before heading his way.
“What’s going on with Fiona?” he asks.
“I don’t know how much I should say, but this is all ways fucked up. She got word to go see her father.”
“He’s an inmate in Atwater.” Jim nods.
I’m surprised he knows this, but I guess it isn’t a secret. “She was upset, and William Carroll, the warden, and I are old friends from our Green Beret days, so I offered to drive her up.”
“I wondered what you were up to on Saturday.”
I don’t look at him. “Anyway, her father is dying. Pancreatic cancer. He told her there were a lot of eyes and not to come back. She was wrecked. You can tell she’s daddy’s little girl, but he knows his trouble crosses over to her each time she visits.”
Jim leans back in his chair.
“On the drive home, she mentioned that the FBI would be calling at her home and office, most likely today. I figured she’d cover her house, and I’d cover the office.” Okay, so I’m exaggerating a bit. I then dive into what happened this morning, including my call to US Attorney Walker Clifton.
Jim’s lips thin. “I bet the little Napoleon was not happy with that.”
“Well, he didn’t come back. They brought a big team with them, but they just asked her a few questions, looked around her office, and left.”
“Do you think that will be the end of it?”
“I think Walker got them to step back, but once her dad dies and the estate is managed, I think they’ll go crazy again.”
Jim nods. “Let’s have a conversation with her about where she should be storing things. She probably has a few hidden safes and pockets right now, but that shit’s going to go sideways. We can help with that.”
“She’ll be my plus one at the holiday party, so we can talk to her then. The crazy shit is what went down in her condo,” I continue. “I have the tapes, and maybe Gage or someone on his team can go through them. We want to be sure they pick up what was planted in her home.”
Unwrapped: Clear Security's Holiday (Clear Security Holiday Book 2) Page 7
