First to Kill nm-1

by Andrew Peterson

  “I’m an unproven asset. It’s a safe call on Director Lansing’s part.”

  “If Lansing had seen you in action at Sutter Hospital, he’d feel differently.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’ve got no problem with you.”

  “Well, at least that’s something. What does five-by-one mean?”

  “It means I’m uneasy with the current situation and don’t want to discuss the subject aloud. I have a plan, but I want to run it by SAC Simpson first.”

  “Why not run it by me too?”

  “I will when I’m able. I can tell you this much. My plan’s risky and I’m going to need some luck to pull it off, but it’s all I’ve got.”

  “I want to help.”

  “It’ll be Simpson’s call. You and I have worked well together.”

  The first thing Nathan noticed when he entered Holly’s hospital room was the cheerful atmosphere. Flowers and heart-shaped helium balloons where everywhere. Despite the monitoring machines and intravenous stands, the room looked colorful and bright. Holly was sitting up in bed with an FBI file in her lap. She set the file down.

  “Thank you for the flowers and balloons,” she said.

  He paused, but recovered quickly. Harv. “You’re welcome. Feeling better?”

  “Tons.”

  The top of her head hosted a new bandage wrapped in gauze. The external supports on her legs were still there, suspended by a cable system of stainless-steel supports that looked like jungle-gym bars. Some of the balloons were attached to them, swaying gently in the processed air. The room had a conflicting odor, antiseptic versus floral. Nathan thought she did look better. Her eyes were brighter and more alert. When he first visited, she’d looked like death warmed over.

  He grabbed a chair and sat facing her. “Director Lansing beat me to finding Amber Sheldon. When I arrived at the bar, two special agents were already inside watching her.”

  Holly stared, her mind working. “Are you sure they were ours?”

  “Am I one-hundred percent sure? No.”

  “Then why do you think they were ours?”

  “Lansing put an agent on the Lear with me, the copilot. He came clean and told me he was reporting directly to Lansing on my activities. Look, I’m not trying to be confrontational. I think it’s a safe play on his part, but before I go any further, I need to know who I can trust and who I can’t. And right now, Lansing’s in the negative column.”

  “Of course I told Director Lansing where you were going and what you planned to do, but I didn’t know he’d take that kind of action.”

  “He’s in the hot seat for any political fallout. He has to be cautious.”

  “Overly, it seems.”

  “I have a decision to make and I wanted to talk with you first. If we’re going to catch these guys, we can’t be working against each other. If Amber had spotted those undercover agents in the bar, the entire dynamic would’ve been different, she might not have talked to me. You understand where I’m going with this.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because I don’t want you to compromise your position with Lansing, I’m reluctant to continue with the status quo, especially if you feel you have to report everything I’m doing.”

  “I don’t have to report everything.”

  “Good, because I need your resources for the next phase of my plan.”

  “If I’d known what Director Lansing was planning, I would’ve told you.”

  “Like I said, I’m not pointing fingers at anyone, especially you, but the surveillance needs to stop.”

  She reached out and grasped his hand. “I’ll find out what’s going on. That’s a promise.”

  “Don’t compromise your relationship with him over this. You and me? We’re still good.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” She released his hand. “You mentioned the next phase?”

  “I’ll be honest. It’s a long shot, but it’s all I’ve got. I need Ernie Bridgestone to call Amber again.”

  “She already called?”

  Nathan had told her about Amber’s first call. He credited her memory lapse to the heavy drugs in her system. Surgical anesthetics had a certain amount of amnesia associated with their use. “Ernie called and told her not to talk to the authorities or he’d kill her. I’m going to tap into that.”

  Holly listened while Nathan laid it out. It took several minutes.

  “It’s a good plan,” Holly said, “but you’re making a huge assumption about Ernie’s character.”

  “It’s all I’ve got. And aside from Leonard, Janey’s all Ernie’s got, in terms of family. If we set this up right, I think there’s a good chance Ernie will feel compelled to call. I told Amber not to talk with him on her home or work number. I told her to have Ernie call back on a pay phone. She’s also being shadowed. Let’s hope Lansing’s people aren’t using rifle mikes on her every move.”

  “It’s a little cruel, what you’re planning.”

  “To pull this off, it has to be spontaneous. She can’t know it’s coming. I can’t worry about hurting her feelings. In fact, I’m counting on it. I’m hoping she will be angry about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I broke my promise.”

  “What promise, what are you talking about?”

  “Remember our conversation in the piano bar? The part about me not making myself a target?”

  “Nathan, what did you do?”

  “I added an insurance policy. During my interview with Dr. Fitzgerald at the Castle, he said Ernie was obsessed with revenge for being railroaded. I’m hoping to tap into his tendency toward revenge, this time for his little brother, Sammy. If Ernie calls Amber, I told her to specifically mention my name, that a guy named Nathan McBride came around looking for him.”

  “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

  “I’m sorry, Holly, but I made that promise before they bombed your field office. This isn’t a simple manhunt anymore. It’s a fight to the death. The FBI is now the hunted, not the hunter. If the family-loyalty angle doesn’t work, I’m hoping Ernie’s desire for revenge will. Think about it, they could’ve taken their cash and bugged out, but they chose to stay and avenge their kid brother. Although they don’t know it yet, they didn’t kill the person directly responsible. After Ernie finds out I’m still alive, it probably won’t sit well with him. If I can just get Ernie to call Amber again, things will fall into place.”

  “In any case, we need to protect you. You know what they’re capable of.”

  “I can take care of myself. Hey, I’ve got to run.”

  “Nathan?”

  He waited.

  She smiled and waved at the decor. “Thank Harvey for me.”

  Nathan smiled. “You don’t miss much.”

  Chapter 18

  Nathan entered his hotel room and collapsed on the bed. He knew Harv would hear him.

  “That you, Nate?”

  “Yep.”

  “How’s Holly doing?”

  “Better. And thanks for sending the balloons and flowers. Her room looked nice.”

  “I figured it might brighten things up a little.”

  “I need a shower and some chow. Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet. Let’s grab a bite down in the restaurant. Dr. Fitzgerald promised to fax everything he has on Ernie Bridgestone’s drunk-driving accident. We don’t have it yet, but it might be here by the time we finish dinner.”

  Nathan rubbed his face. “I keep having this feeling.… Doesn’t it seem like there’s something’s missing? Something we’re not seeing? I mean, think about it. Lansing’s gone to a lot of trouble to monitor my every move. The use of his Lear. The agent on the Lear, the two agents in the bar. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s tapped our phones. They’re probably listening to us right now.”

  Harv nodded. “Whatever the case, we should probably go stealth from now on.”

  “Agreed. Also, I was thinking about Frank Ortega. When was the last time you talked with him?�
��

  “I called him early this afternoon.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Hard to say. He seemed calm. He was very curious about your trip out to the Castle and your chat with Fitzgerald. He was especially interested in your meeting with Amber Sheldon. He really grilled me over it.”

  “Grilled you? What about?”

  Harv pointed at the ceiling. “I’ll tell you on the way to dinner.”

  In the elevator, Nathan resumed their conversation. “What did Ortega want to know about Amber Sheldon?”

  “Everything. He wanted to know what you two talked about. Word for word.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I thought it best not to get too specific. I basically told him you asked Amber about Ernie’s background, anything she could share that might help us find him. I said she didn’t have much to offer. I didn’t say a word about Janey being his daughter.”

  “Good thinking. We need to keep that under wraps.”

  “I’m uncomfortable withholding information from him.”

  “I’m not. Something tells me Lansing and Ortega are closer pals than we realize. I’ve been thinking about that too. How much clout would you need to involve a couple of outsiders like us in top-secret bureau business?”

  “A lot.”

  “Exactly. Ortega’s been cashing in a big debt Lansing owes him. I wish we could find out what it is.”

  “With all due respect, Nate, why would we care? We don’t need to know.”

  Nathan sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I guess all this cloak-and-dagger crap is getting to me.”

  Neither of the Hyatt’s restaurants were open yet, so they walked a few blocks to the Hard Rock Cafe. It was still a bit early for dinner, so the place wasn’t crowded, which suited them just fine. They were escorted to a corner table by a hostess who looked sixteen years old. In reality, she was probably in her late twenties. I must be getting old, Nathan thought as he watched her walk back to her station. When the server came, he ordered a Caesar salad with the dressing on the side. Harv ordered a teriyaki-sticks platter, pot stickers, a shrimp cocktail, a bowl of New England clam chowder, a calamari steak sandwich with fries, and a chocolate shake.

  Nathan just stared.

  “What,” Harv said.

  “You got a hollow leg or something?”

  “I’m hungry. What about it?”

  “I’ll bet you fifty bucks you can’t eat all that.”

  “You’re on.”

  Forty minutes later, Nathan fished out his wallet.

  On the walk back to the Hyatt, Nathan shook his head. “You amaze me.”

  “I know.”

  Nathan switched to Russian. “You spot the two agents watching us in there?”

  “Yes,” Harvey answered in Russian. “Opposite side of the room. Male-female combo sitting at the bar. They were good. I thought maybe you had missed them.”

  “What are we going to do about them?” Nathan asked.

  “You want to mess with them?”

  “It is tempting, is it not? Did you see them while I was out of town with Henning?”

  “No.”

  “Means they are watching me, not you.”

  “Probably, but I could’ve missed them.”

  “You are better at this than me.”

  As they chatted in Russian, they passed a homeless man sitting against the brick wall of a liquor store. “Gol-darned for-ners,” he muttered.

  Nathan smiled at the comment, removed his wallet, and took out a twenty. “Don’t spend it all in the same place,” Nathan said in English. He used the opportunity to glance back at the Hard Rock’s entrance. Their tails were just walking out the door. They turned and started down the sidewalk holding hands. Yeah, right.

  Harvey kept walking without turning. “They coming?” he asked in Russian.

  “Yes. I will divert over to the registration desk and let them catch up. You head into the bar and order a glass of wine. I will head up to the room. Give me three minutes, then come up.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Waste some taxpayer money.”

  At the registration desk, Nathan spoke softly to the woman behind the counter. She was in her mid-thirties and slightly overweight. Her dark hair was in a bun. As usual, she did a double take at Nathan’s face, but recovered quickly and forced a smile.

  Nathan leaned forward and spoke quietly. “There’s a man and a woman following me. When they come through the doors, give me a nod. Okay?”

  “You want me to call the police?”

  “No, just nod when they come in. They work for an insurance company, they’re harmless, but don’t make it obvious you’re noticing them, okay”

  Ten seconds later she gave Nathan a nod.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Nathan strolled over to the bank of elevators and pressed the button. At the sixth floor, he hurried to his room and let himself in with the electronic card key. He grabbed his 9-millimeter from the duffel bag and unloaded it. After opening the door on his side of the adjoining room doorway, he placed an ear against the second door. Sure enough, he heard the room’s door open and close. With a smile, he stepped back, raised his foot, and kicked the door with all his strength.

  The door splintered away from its jamb, flew open, and smacked the dresser hard.

  Nathan burst through. The woman he’d seen in the Hard Rock was just setting her purse and sidearm down on the bed.

  She made a move for her gun, but Nathan pointed his Sig at her chest.

  She held her hands up. “FBI special agent.”

  “I know that. Where’s your partner?”

  She hesitated. “In the lobby, watching Mr. Fontana.”

  Nathan held his gun up. “Do I need this?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve got your word on that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, ’cause it’s not loaded.”

  “When did you spot us?”

  He tucked the gun behind his back. “In the Hard Rock. Your partner kept using the mirror behind the bar to watch us.” He smiled, but it wasn’t returned. He gave her a closer look. She was actually quite attractive. Around the same age as Nathan, she wore jeans and a white silk shirt under a black leather jacket. Her blond hair was cut shoulder-length and she had piercing blue eyes behind a Slavic face.

  Nathan looked around the room at all the surveillance equipment. Half-a-dozen black boxes were stacked on the dresser next to the door, all of them connected to a digital recorder.

  “Okay, Special Agent…”

  “Grangeland.”

  “How do you want to play this out? We have a couple of options. The first, I smash every piece of equipment in this room and you’ll have to explain its destruction to whoever you’re reporting to, presumably Lansing. The second, we maintain the status quo. Harvey and I will be careful what we say and no one needs to be the wiser. I’ll tell the hotel staff I lost my footing and fell against the door.”

  She crossed her arms. “What makes you think I’d allow you to break all this equipment?”

  “Because I outweigh you by a hundred pounds.”

  A smile touched her lips. “I have a counterproposal. You and me. Right here. Right now. The winner decides the outcome.” She slipped out of her coat and tossed it on the bed.

  Nathan stared, not sure he’d heard it right. Was she challenging him to a physical contest? He’d make mincemeat of her. He narrowed his eyes. “May I assume there will be no closed fists and no groin or head blows?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  Nathan tossed his gun on the bed next to hers.

  It happened fast.

  One second she was six feet away, the next she was on him. He parried her palm punch aimed at his solar plexus and realized his mistake too late. Before he could react, she had dropped down and swept his legs out from under him. He went down hard, landing on his butt with a grunt. Two seconds later, he found it difficult to breath. Pin
ned against the base of the bed, his mind tried to register what had happened, but his vision was already graying. He was pretty sure he felt her left forearm across the back of his neck and her right hand squeezing his throat, but he couldn’t be sure. Somewhere in the growing black tunnel he heard her whisper in his ear, “You can cry uncle anytime.”

  Nathan would’ve laughed and responded with a witty retort, but he was immobilized in a half nelson executed by an opponent half his weight. He braced his legs against the base of the bed and thrust out, flipping them both onto their backs. Now underneath him, Grangeland’s grip on his throat didn’t waver. His mind was fading fast. He figured he had ten to fifteen seconds to break the hold or be rendered unconscious. If they hadn’t agreed to no head blows, he could easily drive the back of his head into her face and smash her nose, but he wouldn’t do that to her, even it meant losing this struggle.

  He sucked in what air he could and saw an opportunity to break her hold. Yeah, it could work. Using the space between the bed and the dresser, Nathan rolled to his side and braced his feet against the bed. With his free right hand, he reached behind her back and grabbed the belt above her butt. With Grangeland still clinging to his back he began simultaneously pulling her jeans up while starting a crushing leg press. All 130 pounds of Special Agent Grangeland ended up pinned between himself and the dresser. He was hoping the intrusive distraction of her jeans, coupled with the pressure on her torso, would drive the air from her lungs. Feeling his mind begin to plummet into the void, he pushed his legs harder and yanked her jeans higher. In a desperate, last-ditch effort, he doubled his energy, giving it all he had.

  It worked.

  He felt a hiss of air escape her lungs on the back of his neck. Her arms loosened, giving him just enough room to wrench his head sideways. When her grip on his windpipe failed, he jerked his head free, and sucked in a precious lungful of air.

  Red-faced and panting like a dog, he gasped, “Let’s call it a draw.” He managed to gain his hands and knees just before his Caesar salad came up in projectile fashion. When he finished vomiting his dinner, he wiped his mouth and half laughed. “Damn it, woman, that was some trick.”