by J. C. Fields
“I have us signed up for a couple of hardware seminars in the morning, but in the afternoon, there wasn’t anything I thought would interest you. If you want to go shopping, it might be a good time to do it, or you can lounge around the pool. Your choice.”
“What are you going to do?”
“There’s a seminar on cell phone security I’m attending. I’ve got a few clients expressing concern about their company phones being hacked. The seminar leader is someone I’ve been wanting to meet. We’ve exchanged emails. When he heard we were coming, he suggested the seminar.”
“You’re right, that doesn’t interest me. Think I’ll go to the pool.”
***
Terence Craig was in his mid-thirties with short reddish brown hair and a closely trimmed beard. His black frame glasses sat on an unremarkable nose in front of green eyes. He didn’t have the appearance of a tech geek, but was the owner of a very specialized security company catering to Fortune 500 companies.
After the seminar, as the attendees were shuffling out of the conference room, he walked up to JR and shook his hand. “I’m glad we finally got to meet in person, JR. I’ve followed your company’s progress over the past few years. Impressive.”
“Thank you. We’ve had several good years of growth.”
“Did you learn anything this afternoon?”
JR nodded. “A lot. Thanks.”
“Bullshit. You know more about his topic than most of the people here combined. Now why are you here?”
“Busted.” JR gave Terence a sheepish grin “Sorry, I did enjoy your presentation.”
“I’m glad.”
JR took a deep breath and asked, “Do you know Stephen Blair?”
Craig shook his head. “I’ve heard of him, but have never met him. I understand he’s here looking for investors.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Are you wanting to invest in his AI research?”
“No, nothing like that. I just thought if you knew him, you could introduce me. I have a few questions for him.”
“I know someone who can. There’s a cocktail party before tonight’s keynote speaker. Do you want me to arrange a meeting?”
JR shook his head. “Not necessary, I just need someone to point him out, I’ll introduce myself.”
Craig nodded. “Consider it done.” He smiled and continued. “When are you going to merge your company with mine and come work with me, JR?”
With a half-smile, JR grinned. “Someday… Maybe.”
***
Mia wore a tan sundress to the cocktail party, her shoulders displaying a slight sunburn from her afternoon in the sun.
“You look stunning in that dress.”
She smiled. “I bought it this afternoon. Everything else I brought with me would have hurt my shoulders.”
JR held her hand as they walked into the reception area. It took a few moments, but they found Terence Craig talking to several older gentlemen. When he saw JR, he excused himself and joined JR and Mia. JR introduced them. “Nice to meet you, Mia. Are you enjoying the conference?”
She pointed to her shoulders. “Probably too much.”
They all chuckled. After a few more pleasantries, Craig turned toward the entrance of the banquet room they would soon be entering for the evening’s dinner and keynote. He pointed toward a man talking to a group of Japanese businessmen.
“That’s Stephen Blair. I’ve been told he’s quite the charmer. He’s already secured twenty investors, and this is only the first day.”
JR nodded, but said nothing as he stared at the figure of Stephen Blair.
“How much is he asking for?” Mia asked.
“Three million. I turned him down an hour ago. I was polite, but he didn’t say anything that instilled confidence in his work.”
JR turned back to Craig. “How so?”
“I asked him about a few protocols my company introduced into the AI mainstream several years ago. He acted like he’d never heard of them. After I turned him down, he excused himself to pursue others.”
JR looked at Blair again. “Interesting.”
“Well, good luck. Will I see you two after the speech?”
“Probably. We’ll find you.”
With this comment, Craig turned and returned to his previous conversation.
Mia looked up at JR. “Shall we meet the great Stephen Blair?”
JR smiled. “Don’t be surprised if I say something you don’t expect.”
They walked over to Blair and waited until he was finished setting an appointment with the Japanese men. As soon as they walked off, JR quickly walked up to Blair with his hand out. As they shook hands, JR introduced himself using the name he had not used since becoming JR Diminski.
As he suspected, there was no recognition in the eyes of the man calling himself Stephen Blair. “I was surprised when I heard you sold New Age Software.”
Blair smiled. “Time to move on. My interests have shifted lately and I wanted to do something spectacular with AI. Are you interested in the field?”
Nodding, JR crossed his arms over his chest. “Very much, I’m looking to integrate it into several security protocols I use with my clients.”
Blair’s eyes widened. “Really. If you invest in my new venture, you’d have immediate access to our break-through technology.”
“Interesting. Have you solved the problem of migrating algorithms?”
Blair hesitated before answering. He glanced around the room quickly and then answered. “No, but we have top people working on it. If you will excuse me, I have an appointment in a few minutes. It was nice to meet you.”
He hurried off and was lost in the crowd within seconds.
“What the hell was that all about?” Mia chuckled. “Migrating algorithms and your old name?”
JR stared in the direction of Blair’s retreat.
“That wasn’t Stephen Blair.”
“What are you talking about? Everyone here says it’s Stephen Blair.”
“I know. He may resemble Blair, but he’s not Stephen Blair. Migrating algorithms was a joke we used in college. If someone expressed a crazy idea, we would compare it to migrating algorithms. Blair was the one who came up with the saying. While we weren’t close, I did spend some time with him in college. His sense of humor was extremely dry when he took his meds correctly. He would crack us up with some of the things he said.”
He paused and took a deep breath before pointing in the direction of where Blair disappeared. “The Stephen Blair I went to college with would have recognized my name. That Stephen Blair didn’t.”
“Do you think…?”
“Yeah, I do. We need to go back to our room and call Sean.”
***
“Slow down, JR. Explain again why the man you met in Las Vegas is not Stephen Blair.”
“I knew the minute I saw him it wasn’t Stephen. There’s a strong resemblance, but it’s not him. I used to look slightly down at him in college. Now I looked up. The face is fuller, which is understandable, but the eyes are different. Stephen’s eyes were always slightly droopy, with a faraway look most geniuses’ exhibit. This guy’s didn’t. Plus he didn’t have a clue about migrating algorithms. He acted like it was a real problem, and he had top people working on it. Give me a break.”
Kruger was quiet for a long time. “Did you get a picture of him?”
“No, but we can tomorrow.”
“Get one tomorrow and run it through your facial recognition routine.”
“Who should I compare it to?”
“FBI facial database. You have access.”
“Okay, who do you think he is?”
“I’ll tell you after you run the comparison. I hope I’m wrong.”
Chapter 23
Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino, Las Vegas, NV
JR did not want to spook the man calling himself Stephen Blair, so Mia was the one who followed him around during the lunch break taking clandestine pictures. Pretending to ch
eck her cell phone, she was able to obtain a number of profile and full frontal pictures. JR stayed in the background, noting the man’s mannerisms and the amount of time spent talking to conference attendees.
It took thirty minutes for her to feel comfortable she possessed a good picture. She returned to JR. “I believe I’ve got a few good ones. But you better check to make sure,”
He took her cell phone and started paging through the various pictures. She watched him as he studied each picture. “He’s up to thirty investors, JR. I heard him bragging to a group of men from India.”
JR looked up from the phone. “At three mil each, that’s ninety million dollars.”
She nodded.
JR stared off into the distance and whistled softly. “What does he need ninety million for? He got eight figures for the stock in Blair’s company.”
Mia didn’t answer. She knew JR was thinking out loud and did not expect a response.
Returning his attention to the cell phone, he paused on several pictures and stared at each for several moments. “You’ve got more than a few good pictures. I can use any of them. Let’s get back to the room, and I’ll send them to my system at the office.”
***
Two hours later, JR was on the phone again with Kruger. “There’s a seventy-nine percent match. Petty strong, Sean.”
“It’s not a hundred.”
“The points not matching could be plastic surgery. Basic skull structure and eye width match perfectly. You can’t change those indices.”
Kruger sighed. “So your assessment is it’s him?”
“The program says so. I can tell you he’s not Stephen Blair. I ran the comparison to Stephen, and it only produced a thirty-five percent match.”
“Damn.”
“Is it who you suspected?”
“Yes.”
“What about Blair’s alibi in Florida?”
“You can drive from Atlanta to South Beach in the time gap. It also explains why Thomas Zimmerman and Judith Day were killed. They knew or at least suspected Blair was an impostor.”
“Now what?”
“I’m thinking.”
Kruger was silent for several minutes. “Can you keep an eye on him? I’ll fly to Vegas for the arrest. The Vegas field office can send a few agents as well. Hopefully, they won’t spook him until I can get there.”
“Why not let them arrest him?”
“I want to make sure it’s him. The only way to do that is stare him in the eyes.”
“We’ll do our best.”
***
As JR and Mia watched from a distance, the Las Vegas FBI agents arrived with the subtly of British fans at a Manchester United game. When JR saw who was leading the three-man team, he turned to Mia. “Sean is not going to be happy.”
“Why, JR?”
JR pointed to the agent demanding to see the hotel manager. “An old nemesis of Sean’s. Last I heard, he was transferred to the field office in Fargo, North Dakota. That’s Franklin Dollar.”
***
Kruger stood on the tarmac outside the Springfield-Branson airport’s General Aviation building. He was dressed in Docker khaki’s, a light blue polo shirt with an FBI emblem on the left breast, and a navy blazer, his ever-present computer backpack slung over his right shoulder, and his FBI credentials attached to a lanyard hanging from his neck. He watched behind dark aviator sunglasses as the Gulfstream G280 taxied toward his position.
As the plane approached, he saw the front cabin door start to lower. As soon as the plane stopped and the door was down, he climbed the few steps up into the cabin. The co-pilot of the plane nodded as Kruger passed and raised the door.
Turning to his right and entering the cabin, he saw FBI Director Paul Stumpf sitting in the first seat on the right side of the cabin. An open file was in his lap. Stumpf nodded to the seat across from him, and Kruger sat down.
Paul Stumpf was in his mid-50s. At one time a dedicated marathon runner, he still maintained a lean body. But after having both knees replaced, he was starting to add a few pounds to his five-eleven frame. His hair was dark brown, perfectly styled, with no noticeable gray. Rimless glasses sat on an unremarkable nose in front of arctic blue eyes. Kruger knew Stumpf from his early career; he considered him a friend and was glad he helped propel the man into the directorship of the FBI.
Before Kruger could sit down, he felt the G280 start to taxi back to the runway. “Thanks for the ride, Paul.”
“Are you sure it’s him?”
After placing his backpack on the floor next to him and buckling his seatbelt, Kruger turned to look at the director. “Ninety-nine point nine percent sure.”
Stumpf smiled. “You always leave room for an escape, don’t you?”
Kruger returned the smile, but said nothing.
“Glad I was in St. Louis. We should have you on the ground in two and a half hours.”
As the plane screamed down the runway, Kruger felt it lift and slide into the bright afternoon sky. “I called the Vegas field office. We should have several agents at Mandalay Bay by now. Hopefully, they can keep an eye on Bishop until we get there.”
Looking up from the file, Stumpf removed his glasses and turned his attention to Kruger. “We might have a problem.”
Kruger frowned and stared at his old friend. “How so?”
“For some reason, I haven’t been able to find out why at this point, Franklin Dollar was transferred to the Vegas field office three months ago.”
Taking a deep breath, Kruger put a hand over his now-closed eyes. “Don’t tell me they sent him to the hotel.”
“Wish I could.”
“Shit.”
“I would call that an accurate assessment.”
“Thought you transferred him to the Fargo office?”
“I did. But since then I haven’t been keeping tabs on him. Guess I should have. All I know is for some reason, Personnel approved his request to be transferred out of Fargo. The Vegas office needed more agents and…”
Kruger finished the sentence. “He received the transfer. Hope he learned his lesson after the fiasco in Kansas City.”
Stumpf was quiet for several moments. He put his glasses back on and returned his attention to the open file.
“We’ll see.”
***
With Las Vegas in the Pacific Time Zone, the G280 landed thirty minutes later than their departure time from Springfield in the Central Time Zone. An agency car met them on the tarmac and shuttled them to a back entrance of the Mandalay Bay complex.
They were met by Special Agent Franklin Dollar. He opened the door for Director Stumpf. “Glad you’re here, sir. We have the suspect under surveillance.”
Franklin “Mint” Dollar was slender and five-foot-ten inches tall, with close-cropped coal-black hair. Kruger considered the man an incompetent, uninspiring, lazy ass-kisser. The last time he and Kruger worked together, Dollar declared a case closed—a habit of his—before a proper investigation could be completed. He complained to Paul Stumpf’s predecessor that Kruger was interfering with the investigation, resulting in Kruger being taken off the case, a case he solved not too long after Dollar was demoted and sent to Fargo.
Stumpf did not shake Dollar’s proffered hand and instead stared him in the eyes.
“I hope you haven’t compromised this investigation agent. Randolph Bishop has been on the agency’s ten most wanted list for over six years. My sources tell me you haven’t seen him in thirty minutes.”
“He’s behind closed doors in a meeting. We have the entrance secured waiting for your arrival.”
Leaning closer to Dollar’s ear, Stumpf lowered his voice so no one else could hear. “So help me Franklin, if you’ve mucked this up, it will be your last act as an agent with the FBI.”
Standing straight, he walked toward the door leading into the Casino.
Dollar stood still, his eyes wide as he stared into the distance at nothing. Kruger passed him heading toward the door and just shook his
head.
***
JR and Mia sat at a wine bar across from the meeting rooms where Bishop was supposedly meeting with more investors. When Kruger walked up he gave Mia a hug and shook JR’s hand. He sat in the only empty chair left at the small bistro table and stared at the door to the meeting room. “How long has he been in there?”
JR looked at his cell phone. “About forty-five minutes. He followed several men into the room and closed the door.”
“Any other way in or out?”
“Don’t know. Your buddy Dollar hasn’t been the most discreet observer I’ve ever witnessed.”
Kruger turned his attention to JR. “He’s not my buddy. Tell me what happened.”
“When Dollar arrived, he immediately went to the check-in counter demanding to see the hotel manager. He was flashing his credentials to anyone who would look at them. The other agents were rolling their eyes and staying as far away from him as possible. You could tell they weren’t proud to be associated with him.”
Kruger once again stared at the door to the room across from the wine bar. “Wonderful. Do you think Bishop saw him arrive?”
“Don’t know,” JR shook his head. “No way of telling. Everyone in the lobby and the casino area knew there were FBI agents looking for someone. If he was anywhere around…”
Nodding, Kruger closed his eyes. “Our surveillance is blown.”
“Probably a good assumption.”
After several moments of silence, Kruger changed the subject. “The director wants to meet you while he’s here.”
JR stiffened and sat straighter. “Why?”
“Because he’s the Director of the FBI and wants to meet you.”
“Again, why?”
Kruger smiled. “Don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”
Several men and Paul Stumpf approached the meeting room door. JR nodded in their direction. “Looks like they’re going to force the issue.”
Kruger stood and quickly walked toward the five men gathered at the door. One was the hotel manager, and the other three beside Stumpf were agents from the Las Vegas field office. Kruger did not know any of them. He pulled his lanyard with his credentials out of the inside breast pocket of his sport coat and hung it around his neck.
