First to Kill nm-1

by Andrew Peterson

  “They probably suspected there were bugs and communicated by written notes. Who knows? I should’ve seen this coming. It was that damned garage. Other things too. Everything was right there and I didn’t see it. I should’ve put it all together.”

  “We had no reason to believe Ernie and Leonard would be there. Bruce was right, their cousins were just a couple of hayseeds.”

  “Then why were they killed?”

  Holly said nothing.

  “It’s because they knew something, maybe another safe house or hiding place or a contact. Something important. Was the motorcycle still in the garage?”

  “No. We’ve got an APB out on it. City, state, and local law-enforcement cops are stopping anyone seen riding Enduros regardless of color. Maybe we’ll catch a break.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “We’re doing everything possible to find them.”

  “I’m pretty sure I know why the Bridgestones went to the farmhouse. I think it’s where they stashed the missing Semtex from the compound. Probably in the tunnel or the underground room. Can your forensic people check for trace evidence of it?”

  “Yes, but it’s very difficult to detect. Semtex doesn’t leave-”

  The bartender returned with their drinks. Nathan’s O’Doul’s was served with a mug, cloudy from frost. He poured some and offered a silent toast. Under a solo spotlight onstage, the musicians continued their jamming.

  “Semtex doesn’t leave much of itself behind,” she continued, “even when it’s exposed. It’s not like gunpowder or ANFO, we can test for those compounds easily. If it was still sealed in its crates, all bets are off.”

  “We should’ve spent a few minutes poking around out there.”

  “I was the one who wanted to get up to that cabin.”

  “There’s a bigger question here,” he said. “A huge question. If the missing Semtex was there, why did they want it?”

  Holly stared. “I don’t like that question.”

  “I think it’s fair to assume they weren’t trying to complete a sale in progress, and I seriously doubt they were selling individual crates. That’d be too risky. They’d have a single buyer for all it.”

  “Who do you think they were selling it to? Foreign terrorists? An Al Qaeda cell operating within the United States?”

  Nathan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. It was more likely being sold to radical militia groups. They love the stuff. It’s way easier to use than ANFO or TNT. The Bridgestones are coldblooded, but they aren’t terrorists. Something tells me they wouldn’t sell to radical Islamic types. I just can’t see them doing that. It’s all about money, not hatred of their country. I don’t have anything to base that on but my gut instinct. If the Bridgestones could somehow be caught and interrogated, I think we’ll find they’ve been doing business with militia groups, not terrorists.”

  “By strict interpretation, the Bridgestones already are terrorists,” Holly said. “Look at what they’ve done so far.”

  “I can’t deny they’ve committed some horrible crimes, but at the risk of sounding callous, not on a grand scale. Like I said on the drive up to the cabin, if they try something, it won’t be a random target. They’ll go after whoever hurt them. The FBI and now me.”

  “Why do you think the Bridgestones showed their cousins where the money was hidden? I mean, they could’ve told them to get lost for a couple hours while they buried it.”

  “I wondered the same thing myself. I think they had this routine planned from the beginning. It’s a believable bone to throw. That much cash gets serious attention. You remember Henning’s reaction to seeing it? If the cousins were ever questioned by the authorities, they could hold out for awhile, then give up the cash and the cabin, making it seem like they caved.”

  “So you think the Bridgestones used the money as a distraction, a decoy? They sacrificed it?”

  “It worked, didn’t it? Once we had the cash and the info about the cabin, we were out of there in a hurry.”

  “I can’t deny that.”

  “Listen, Holly, there’s something you need to know, and I don’t want to do it behind your back.”

  “Okay…”

  “I’ve arranged a phone call with Director Lansing tomorrow.”

  She stared, her mind working. “May I ask why?”

  “This whole thing reeks of my father’s involvement. I asked Harv to call Frank Ortega and verify my suspicion. Ortega confirmed it. When we first met with him, Ortega told us Director Lansing knew of our involvement before the raid. He said he’d never do something like that behind Lansing’s back. Lansing then told Ortega he didn’t want to know about it, kind of a don’t-ask, don’t-tell thing, but Lansing didn’t say no. I think Ortega called in a major favor to involve us. He knew we were a covert-ops team, knew how we did things. I think he wanted his grandson found at any cost.”

  “What do you hope to accomplish by talking with Lansing?”

  “Holly, I’ve known Harv through life and death. I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s tearing him up. He needs closure too, maybe more than he’s willing to admit to me or himself. What they did to James Ortega and now to two more of your people… It can’t go unanswered.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I want a green light to pursue the Bridgestones.”

  She shook her head. “Lansing will never agree to it.”

  “I’ll give him our word we won’t kill them or seriously hurt anyone in the process. Obviously, we’re aware the FBI needs them alive for questioning. You’ve seen us in action.”

  “It’s what I haven’t seen that concerns me.”

  He looked down, didn’t respond.

  She reached across the table and touched his hand. “That wasn’t fair to you, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

  “It was honest.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’ve done some horrible things, Harv and I. I’ve always felt what we did was justified in the name of national security even though this little voice in the back of my head sometimes said otherwise. The night we accepted this assignment, Mrs. Ortega said something to me, something that rang true. She told me life is never as simple as a book of rules. She also told me she didn’t see the world through rose-colored glasses.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “I’m not suggesting you do. I’m just saying there’s more at stake than justice for James Ortega and your two techs. You don’t know how long those guys have been peddling Semtex. The FBI and ATF need to find out who’s been buying it and try to recover as much as it can.”

  “That’s all true, but I can’t see Lansing agreeing to your continued involvement. Why would he? He’ll want containment at this point. Involving you further has serious consequences if it ever leaks to the media. He’s got the resources of thirty-one thousand employees under his command and a budget of six billion dollars. In all honesty, he’ll say he doesn’t need you.”

  “Just like he didn’t need us at the compound or to find James Ortega?”

  Holly said nothing.

  “We’d prefer to have his blessing, but we don’t need it. The stakes were raised when the Bridgestones found out who we are. One way or the other, they’re going down.”

  “And you think you’re the ones to do it?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Where will you look? This is a huge country, they could be anywhere.”

  “They’re still here, in Sacramento.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “They have unfinished business.”

  “Tell me you’re not thinking of using yourself as bait.”

  “Actually, I am.”

  “Absolutely out of the question. You know what those guys are capable of. Suppose something went wrong and they managed to get ahold of you?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.
Please promise me you won’t do it. Give me your word you won’t do it.”

  “Holly…”

  “Your word.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If Lansing isn’t aboard, will you help us? It would help if we had access to the FBI’s NCIC database.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  Nathan didn’t respond.

  “I’m willing to help you, but there’s only so much I can do, so far I can go.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.”

  She ate a pretzel and followed it with a sip of wine. “I suppose if you were to make an unofficial request for some very specific information on a very specific individual within the NCIC system…”

  He smiled. “Good enough.”

  “You understand that officially I said no, right?”

  “Yes, absolutely. Officially you said no.”

  They exchanged a smile.

  “What’s next?”

  “Harv and I are going to dig into the Bridgestones’ military backgrounds.”

  “May I ask what you’re looking for, other than what we talked about?”

  “I want the visitation logs from the USDB at Fort Leavenworth where Ernie served his sentence. The Commandant of the Marine Corps, General Hawthorne, used to be my commanding officer.”

  “One of the Joint Chiefs. Wow, that’s a good contact. Will he help you?”

  “I think so. I’ve never asked him for anything before.”

  “How much are you going to tell him? I mean, there’s still an issue with containment.”

  “Speaking of containment, how did the Bridgestones find out about me and my father?”

  She looked down at her glass of wine. “During their interrogation, the two techs from the van told the Bridgestones they overheard Gifford and Henning talk about you last night. They gave you up under the torture, like anyone would in that situation. The Bridgestones knew everything was being recorded. They openly mocked the FBI during the torture.”

  He softened his tone. “Look, you’ve lost three people under your command in as many days. The SWAT agent at the compound and the two surveillance guys. Four, if you include James Ortega. I didn’t mean to sound callous.”

  “It was horrible. I’ve never heard men scream like that before.”

  “Holly, I’m really sorry about all of this.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  Nathan didn’t respond.

  She lowered her voice. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Do you?”

  “Got a comfortable couch?”

  “Very. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “I should call Harv. He worries about me. I need to tell him the Bridgestones know about us. Do you mind?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Nathan pulled the cell from his hip and the Hyatt’s business card from his front pocket. “Room six-two-seven, please. Thanks… Harv, it’s me… Sorry, yeah, I’m okay… No, I’m with Holly… Just down the street. The Bridgestones know about us, my father too…. They wrung it out of the two surveillance techs. The techs overheard Gifford and Henning talking about us last night. Everything was recorded. The machines in the van were running when they grabbed them.” He mouthed the word sorry to Holly.

  She mouthed the words, it’s okay, back.

  “Yeah, she’s right here.” Nathan pressed the speaker button and turned the volume down to a whisper. “Okay, you’re on speaker.” Nathan set the phone down and they both leaned toward it.

  “Hello, Holly.”

  “Hi, Harvey.”

  “Holly, I’m really sorry about the situation, with you losing two more of your people.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But I need to know exactly what the techs said.”

  “I listened to it, I can tell you.”

  “I need it word for word. I can’t rely on your memory for something this important. I need every word.”

  Nathan mouthed sorry again. She shook her head at him. “Under the circumstances, I think it’s a reasonable request. I’ll make a copy for you.”

  “I need it fast. Tonight, if possible.”

  “Harv,” Nathan said, “It’s almost one in the morning. There’s no one there to do it. I don’t think we need to wake up one of Holly’s gizmo nerds at one in the morning.”

  She mouthed, gizmo nerds?

  “First thing in morning, okay?” Harvey asked. “I don’t have my laptop with me, so I’ll need it in either cassette or CD format. I’ll buy a player at Walmart or somewhere. What time does your field office open?”

  Holly leaned toward the phone. “I’ll have it ready by six tomorrow morning. Will that work?”

  “Yes, that works.”

  “I’ll have it couriered to the Hyatt’s front desk under your name.”

  Harvey didn’t respond.

  “Harv?” Nathan asked, “you still there?”

  “Let’s… just use my room number.”

  “Understood,” Holly said.

  “You’ll label the envelope yourself?” Harvey asked.

  “Scout’s honor,” she said.

  Nathan mouthed sorry again.

  Holly shook her head.

  “Okay, good,” Harvey said. “Then things are okay. We’re all set then.”

  “I’ve got you covered,” she said.

  “That’s good, that’s real good. Okay. We’re all set. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “I’ll call you at oh-six-thirty. Good night, old friend,” Nathan said.

  “Okay, that’s it then. Good night.”

  “Sorry about that,” Nathan said, ending the call. “He’s a protective man.”

  “I can tell. Does he have a family, a wife and kids?”

  “Yes. Two sons. He’s been married for almost fifteen years, but he’s not worried about his family. If I know Harv, he’s already paging Gavin to arrange for two of our best guys to be here first thing in the morning. If I called back right now, the line would be busy.”

  “He’s bringing in bodyguards?”

  “He worries about me. To be honest, overly so, to the point of being annoying at times. Even though the Bridgestones have my name, there’s no information on me in any computer system they could access. Even if they had a high-level contact in the DOD, they still couldn’t access my file. I’m surprised you were able to get it. Speaking of, how did you get it?”

  “I didn’t, Larry Gifford did. I didn’t ask how.”

  “I’ll have to grill him about that. He must be a resourceful guy.”

  “He is. If I had to speculate, he probably used your father’s influence.”

  “Yeah, that would do it,” Nathan agreed. “Anyway, back to Harv. I rarely give him a hard time about being overprotective, and when I do, he shrugs it off. Remember when I told you my picture was in the encyclopedia under baggage? His picture’s under cloak-and-dagger.”

  “It’s his training, it’ll always be with him. You too.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Would he be as concerned if there wasn’t, you know… torture involved?”

  “Probably not.”

  Despite Holly’s protest, Nathan paid for their drinks. At her Explorer, Nathan asked if she still wanted him to drive. Because of the glass of wine, she said yes. Legally, she wasn’t drunk, but because of her position in the FBI, discretion was the better part of valor. He agreed and tucked her into the passenger’s seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Holly kept checking her side mirror, looking for anyone who might be following them. As they wound their way through the deserted streets of downtown Sacramento, Nathan did the same, using the rearview mirror. Two peas in a pod, he thought.

  Holly’s home was in a planned residential neighborhood with neatly landscaped yards. As he approached her driveway, she leaned across him and hit the button on the garage-door remote attached to the Explorer’s visor. He held his breath as her left breast brushed across his arm. For a few seco
nds, their faces were inches apart. He pulled the SUV into her garage and killed the engine. This time, Holly waited while he climbed out and opened her door. She punched a six-digit number into the keypad by the door and the blinking red LED changed to solid green. Once inside, Holly rearmed the system and turned on some lights.

  “Nice,” Nathan said. Her kitchen was spotless, cleaner than his, which was saying a lot. Either she didn’t spend a lot time in here, or she was obsessive about tidiness. He suspected it was a combination of both. The blue granite countertops were a perfect complement to the dark cherry cabinets. In the family room, mission-style furniture was arranged at right angles to a big-screen television. Several limited-edition prints of Wyland’s seascapes adorned the walls. He recognized one of them, a pod of orcas, because the original oil was in his La Jolla home. No need to mention that.

  She set her purse down on the counter. “I don’t have any nonalcoholic beer, but I’ve got a pitcher of tea in the refrigerator. Glasses are in the cabinet above the dishwasher.” She disappeared down the hall on the right. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I like your home.”

  “Thank you. Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to check phone messages and email.”

  Married to the job, he thought. He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and poured himself and Holly some tea. He settled onto the couch in the living room and closed his eyes. Sleep would come easily right now. He thought about Holly and her brush against him in the car. Had it been an overture, an invitation? He supposed it could’ve been by mistake, but in his experience, women were acutely aware of that type of contact. It didn’t take much to send the wrong signal to men. He wasn’t presumptuous enough to believe she had given him a green light for anything more than a snooze on the couch, which was looking more and more likely the longer he sat here with his eyes closed.

  What a draining twenty-four hours. He ran the events through his mind. The helicopter ride into Sacramento. The ride out to the farmhouse. Henning’s challenging and arrogant attitude. The Bridgestones’ cousins’ dog-and-pony show under interrogation. The buried cash. The long ride into the mountains with Holly. James Ortega’s charred body. The SWAT raid at the farmhouse. The second tunnel. The dead surveillance techs and cousins. And the Bridgestones’ knowledge of Nathan’s involvement. What else might they know? He closed his eyes and sighed. The four hours of sleep he’d gotten earlier seemed like decades ago.