by Cat Connor
“Caldwell?”
“Yeah, how you doing, Conway. Haven’t seen you since … Quantico.”
“Who is in at this time of the morning?”
“Your team. I’ve logged in two of Delta C and one Delta B in the last four hours.”
“Anyone else?”
He scrolled through the screen in front of him then stopped. “Had some young guy at the desk at twenty-two thirty. Justin Troy. Said he was attached to Delta A.”
I swallowed. “And?”
“You revoked his clearance and suspended him according to Sentinel. He didn’t get in.”
“Any idea what he wanted?”
“Nope. Didn’t say.”
“Was that before or after Delta B brought the two women in?”
“Exactly eleven minutes after.”
“Eleven minutes.”
“Got any video footage of him coming in and leaving?”
“Of course. Come around here.” Caldwell moved his chair enabling me to get in beside him. I leaned on the desk and watched as he found the right time stamps and ran the video. That was him. He came in, had a conversation with Caldwell and left. He didn’t look happy.
“He didn’t come back?”
“No.”
I called Lee’s cell.
“You find anyone who shouldn’t be here?”
“No. There are only seven other people in the building. They all check out.”
That’s what I figured.
“Troy was here.”
“Not looking good for him,” Lee commented. “You’re on speaker, Chicky. Sam is here.”
“No, it’s not looking good for Troy.”
“What do you want to do?” Sam asked.
“Get the little fucker in here.” I wanted to know why he was trying to get into the building and what he had to do with the lawyer situation. My gut said he made the calls and had been tailing us.
I called Transit and asked for the commanding officer.
“It’s SSA Conway. The surveillance job I handed over to Transit, are you familiar with it?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. We had two teams on the target until yesterday.”
“Excuse me, until yesterday?”
“You revoked the surveillance. I have the paperwork in front of me now. About to review it.”
He’s reviewing orders in the middle of the night? Dedicated.
“Can you bring that paperwork to the Washington field office, please?”
“I’ll fax it?”
“No, I need the original documents.”
“Is there a problem agent?”
“Yes. I didn’t ask for surveillance to stop.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“Thank you.” I pocketed my phone.
Caldwell, Kurt and Mitch watched and waited. “We need coffee. Well, I need coffee,” I said.
Caldwell smiled. “There is an office with a kitchen through that door behind me. Coffee is on and fairly fresh.”
“Thanks,” Kurt replied. “You got monitors in there?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then join us,” I said with a smile.
Two cups of coffee later, I felt wide-awake. Caldwell pointed out a man in uniform walking in the front door.
“He looks like Transit,” he said.
“I’ll go see,” I replied, opening the door and greeting the man at the desk. Mitch followed me out.
“Agent Conway?”
“Yes.” We shook. “And you are?”
“Commander Terry Simons.”
He handed me a manila envelope. “The orders.”
“How many people handled this paperwork?”
“Just me. The envelope was addressed to me and I opened it.”
I nodded. “That’s helpful. We can rule out your prints and hopefully find some belonging to whoever signed this.” I pulled latex gloves from a box under Caldwell’s desk and put them on. The FBI seal was in the upper left corner of the envelope. The paperwork bore the FBI and Delta A header. I read the orders and paid special attention to the signature. Looked like mine. It wasn’t, I knew that, but at first glance it looked like mine. Clever.
Mitch looked over my shoulder. “The ‘a’ in Conway is slightly off.”
I smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“Do you want us to put surveillance back on Justin Troy?” Commander Simons asked.
“No, thanks. We’re bringing him in now. Can you email me your report?”
“Sure,” he replied.
Mitch handed him one of my cards.
“Thanks for this, Commander. I appreciate your help. Once this case is over, there will be an open bar at O’Malley’s for all the LEOs involved.”
“That’ll set you back a bit, Agent,” he said with a grin.
“Usually does, but it’s well worth it.”
“Let me know when and I’ll be there.”
We watched him leave. I slid the envelope and paperwork into an evidence bag I found under Caldwell’s desk. Then addressed it to the Questioned Documents Lab. Caldwell came through the door to the back room.
“I’ll get the courier in for that, Conway,” he said, taking the bag and signing the chain of custody panel on the back.
“Cheers,” I replied.
Kurt appeared.
“Sam and Lee just came in the back entrance with Troy.”
Thirty-Six
Balls To The Wall
Sam and Lee dumped Troy in an interview room, took his cell phone off him, and left him there. Caldwell rang my cell and told me the courier had picked up the documents. Great. Could get something by the end of the day, depending on backlogs. I did have an advantage this time though. This was a priority case and linked to possible terrorism, which would work in my favor. Nice that something did for a change.
We all sat in the adjacent viewing room and had coffee, watching him through the one-way mirror.
“Don’t you think he’s looking a bit too calm?” Lee said.
“Bet we can shake him up,” Sam replied.
Kurt smiled. “I bet we can too.”
I handed Kurt paperwork from Troy’s file. “Have a look at what his instructors had to say about him while he was at Quantico.”
I’d seen his file when Troy was assigned to me. There was nothing remarkable about it but now I looked with new eyes.
He flipped through the pages, reading comments and grumbling to himself. He passed the papers to Mitch. “Sycophant and labeled as such.”
“That explains why he was so eager to get my approval,” I said with a small laugh.
“And why he was keen to be around you when O’Hare was mentioned.”
I hadn’t noticed. Oblivious. I thought about it for a second. No, not oblivious. It just wasn’t important. My focus was on his ability to learn and to learn fast, not how brown his nose was. Although in light of recent events anything that indicated he was super attentive at the mention of O’Hare was of interest.
“Okay, Lee, you’re up,” I said. “Don’t make him cry yet …”
“I’ll do my best,” Lee replied and left the room.
We watched as Lee opened the interview room door and walked in. I was interested in how Troy reacted or didn’t react. And he didn’t react. He remained calm, as though he thought he had a ‘get out of jail free’ card. I just bet that card was in the form of Senator Robinson or his minions. Couldn’t wait to see when he tried to play it.
Lee jumped in with a question about Senator Robinson.
“I don’t know Robinson,” he announced, rubbing his nose. A lie.
This was going to be fun. I wished I was less beat up so I could fully enjoy the show.
“Who do you know?” Lee asked, laying a closed manila folder on the table in front of him.
Troy folded his hands on the table.
“How about I fire out some names and see if any stick?”
“If you want,” Troy replied. The hint of smugness in his voice didn’t impress me much.
>
It was too late to stop the video clip from playing in my head, Shania Twain ‘That Don’t Impress Me Much’. I blinked to stop the clip and focus on the scene beyond the one-way glass.
Mitch nudged my arm. “All right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Shania Twain?”
“Little bit out there … it’s him, he doesn’t impress me much.”
Mitch laughed. “I gathered that.”
I leaned forward and turned up the volume in the room. Lee reeled off names. Kurt and Sam waited for responses from Troy. I wanted to hear his voice and see any visual clues.
“Misha Praskovya,” Lee said.
Troy stared straight ahead. “Don’t know the name,” he said. I detected an almost imperceptible rise in his voice on the last word. He had heard Misha’s name before.
“Seamus Kennedy.”
He blinked and shook his head. “No. Don’t know him.”
“Trudi Welsh.”
“I don’t know her.”
“Danni Lane?”
He fixed his stare on the wall beyond Lee. “Don’t know that name.” Same slight rise at the end of the sentence. Another lie.
“Alexandra Dobrovolný.”
His jaw clenched. He shook his head but didn’t speak.
He knew of her.
I rang Lee’s cell. “Push the Dobrovolný thing. He knows something.”
Lee hung up without speaking to me.
“How do you know Alexandra?” Lee asked.
Troy’s eyes widened for a second. I could see him struggling to remain composed.
“I don’t,” he said. No longer fixed on a spot on the wall now, he’d cast his eyes downward.
“Yeah, you do. We can play this game all night, but eventually you’re going to get tired and you’re going to talk. Why not do it now and save all the nastiness that will soon follow.”
His eyes flashed at Lee then back to the table.
“I have a lawyer. You can’t hold me here.”
His modicum of bravery and defiance made me smile. It wouldn’t last long.
“With what you did at the Hoover Building, you’re lucky you were walking free to start with,” Lee replied. “Now, tell me about Alexandra Dobrovolný. What is your relationship with her?”
“I don’t have a relationship with her,” he replied. “I don’t know her.”
“Yeah, you do. But that’s okay, you carry on being uncooperative, you little shit, that’s your choice.”
“I don’t know her.”
“You know of her. You know something. And it’s time you shared that knowledge.” Lee remained calm, obviously enjoying himself. It was amusing to watch.
Small beads of sweat gathered on Troy’s brow.
Sam spoke from beside me. “Look at this, Chicky.”
He passed me Troy’s phone, with an email open on the screen.
“Hmmm, what does it mean?”
“I have no idea. Looks like a code. You’re good with codes.”
Nice that he had faith in my code cracking ability. I’m good at seeing patterns.
“Okay.” I sat down with the phone. It wasn’t an immediately recognizable code. “I’ll forward that email to my work account … screen on the phone is too small for me to get a good bead on it.”
“Good thinking,” Sam replied.
I forwarded the message and then handed it back to Sam. “Carry on. I’ll be back when I have something.”
Mitch was right behind me as I headed for the door; his hand reached past me to the door handle. I stepped aside and let him open the door.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he replied with a smile. “Where are we going?”
“The bullpen.”
A few minutes later, I sat at my temporary desk, reading the email on a much bigger screen.
I flipped my hair back off my face, irritated. It slid forward again. There were no hair ties around my wrist. There were always hair ties around my wrist. I sighed and pushed my hair behind my shoulders again and gave it a twist, hoping it would hold it for a bit.
Mitch handed me a rubber band. “Will this help?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I pulled my hair into a loose ponytail. My fingers touched what was probably a massive bruise on the side of my head. I made a mental note not to touch it again.
“That’s not what that sigh was about.”
“You’re right. It’s this email. And my hair was annoying me.”
I turned my attention back to the screen and the email. “I don’t know what the key is.”
“Try closing your eyes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Now open them. What do you see?”
“Numbers, I think it’s a price list.”
“For?”
“I don’t know.”
The Crystals ‘Da doo ron ron’broke into my thoughts. They were quite adamant when they told me that his name was Bill.
Bill.
“Ellie? Did you just hear ‘Da doo ron ron’?”
“I did.” There was a smile in my voice. “It’s got something to do with Sunday and a man called Bill.”
“That’s what you got from the song?” Mitch asked with a hefty dose of bemusement.
“Yeah, what’d you get?”
“I just heard a song. My powers of deduction work better on people than music.”
I called Lee. “Something is going to happen on Sunday and we need to know who Bill is.” I took a breath. “Also, I think an email on his phone is a price list but it’s in code. See what you can do?”
He listened then replied, “I’m on it, SSA.” Lee hung up. I knew he would dig up something armed with a possible name.
As Lee attempted to crack Troy’s pseudo tough-guy façade, I called Kurt from the phone on the desk and told him Mitch and I would head back to the hotel soon.
Bits and pieces of songs and conversations milled about in my head, stirred by a giant wooden spoon with the word revenge in red letters on the handle. A long sigh forced its way between my teeth and out into the office. It wasn’t helping.
“Okay?” Mitch asked.
“Sure, why not.”
“That’s not an answer,” he probed. His voice was gentle and smooth.
“My head hurts. I’m not getting anywhere with this case. So, ‘okay’ is stretching the truth somewhat.”
We went back to the viewing room and watched a few more minutes of the live entertainment, all the while wishing waterboarding was legal.
I pulled out my cell phone and made a call to Iain Campbell. He answered on the fourth ring. “Asleep?”
“Nope, working. What do you need, Ellie?”
“Danni Lane. Who is she? I’ve heard she’s Interpol.”
Keys tapped. “New Zealand citizen. Born in Christchurch, New Zealand. An author. Hold up, I’m plugging her picture into our system.” More tapping. “Now we wait. You think she’s any good as a writer?”
“No idea. Kurt thinks so. He was all fan-boy when we met her.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. It was true. I was there.
“Her photo has pinged up a classified file. One moment. Let me get this thing open.”
The line sounded hollow. Iain had left his desk. I watched the floor show through the viewing room window until he came back.
“Back. File is open. Danni Lane is an alias. She is an author. She is a kiwi. She is also Danielle Marie Malevich. She’s worked as an Interpol agent for ten years, living in New Zealand but working cases globally. She uses research trips as part of her cover. Currently assigned to an abduction case.”
“Abduction? Got details?”
“No. Not even I can get the details for this case. Just that it’s an abduction. No details on the victim or where the person was taken, not so much as an operation case name.”
That’s bad. If the case is so tightly locked down Iain can’t access it, then there is a reason.
“Not good news,”
I said.
“Not at all. How did you know she was Interpol?”
“Gut feeling,” I replied without hesitation.
“If only we could bottle your gut feelings and sell them,” Iain said with a laugh.
“Make life easier, huh?”
“Sure would.” Iain paused. The silence on the end of the phone filled with the sound of papers being moved around. “You wouldn’t happen to know why some mutual friends of ours are in town would you?”
“If you’re referring to the Quasi-UN who shot up my house a while back and then found that kiddie fiddler for us … no.”
“Yep, that’s them.”
“I know they’re here. I know Praskovya is here too. The whole gang is in town. Also, Praskovya had coffee with Danni Lane.”
“She’s working an abduction and they’re in town. They have to be together,” Iain muttered.
“That’s my feeling too.” Especially because when we met them the first time, they were in town to rescue a kid.
“And you think this has something to do with Alexandra?”
“I do.”
I think they’re here to find both women.
“Take care, Ellie. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do. Thanks, Iain.” I hung up and pocketed my phone.
“Danni Lane is Interpol. She’s on an uber-secret assignment.” I leaned on the wall. “I’m not happy about the secrecy. It points to a worrying situation with people who should not be involved in anything bad at all.”
Kurt frowned. “What are you rambling about, Conway?”
“The level of secrecy surrounding Danni Lane.”
“Ah, I see, yes. Bad. People high up the food chain probably involved?”
“How high, that’s the question,” I replied.
“Have a feeling we’ll find out,” Kurt responded with a grin. “I know you and secrets. Like a dog with a bone.”
As long as he meant that in a good way.
“I’m going to the bathroom then I need to rest a bit and figure things out. Hotel time. I’ll meet you out front?” I said to Mitch, quietly pleased with how I recognized that I needed to rest and being so grown up about it.
“I’ll wait for you.”
Kurt handed Mitch the keys to his car. “Or you can pull the car around,” he said.
“See you out front.”
