by Robin Mahle
“No, sir. Again, I won’t let it deter my focus from class again. I can assure you that this training is my priority.”
“Okay. I don’t give third chances, Reid.” He pushed off the edge of the desk. “You are no more or less important than the other trainees.”
“Thank you, Agent Hawes. You’ll have my undivided attention from here on out.”
“Fair enough. Goodbye, Reid.”
The dormitory seemed a far walk as she drifted through the glass-enclosed breezeway, replaying the instructor’s words, knowing she was putting everything at risk. And for what? Did she think Scarborough and Jameson couldn’t handle the case on their own? Nick was under the impression that this investigation would shine a spotlight on her talents, whatever those were, and that everything else would just fall into place as a result. It hadn’t. And they needed her like she needed a hole in her head. Kate stopped and looked out at the grounds, her reflection in the glass staring back at her. She examined her lucent features. Who are you? Who do you want to be?
Marshall had made her out to be better than she was, stronger than she was, and it was time to stop seeing herself as he had. Her past did not make her special, it made her a survivor. She needed to come to terms with the fact that no one here would cut her the slack that he did. It was time for her to stand on her own two feet. She would need to convince Nick of the same.
Returning to her room, the long-awaited call finally came. “Reid here.”
“Vito’s body was found early this morning floating near the docks.” Nick spoke with urgency. “Garrett’s team is searching Kovac’s home now and we’ve got people posted at the diner in case he shows up. With two dead bodies linked to him, though, I’m not going to hold my breath that he’ll show up at either place.”
Kate immediately thought of Nicola. Her brother was dead and while she suspected as much, the reality would devastate her and her mother.
“Jameson’s pulled phone records on Druseburg. Can you get to the WFO? I’ll have the files waiting for you there. Get with Agent Vasquez and she’ll walk you through it. His attorneys will have him under lock and key by now, so we need dates and times of any conversations with Corbett after Madlena had gone missing. We’re looking specifically for numbers registered to Corbett, or Stan Kovac, assuming they’re traceable. I just need some ammunition. Franks is on board, but she wants more before hauling him in because if we can’t make charges stick, you’d better believe he’ll be gone before we can.”
“Nick,” She hesitated to ask, but the question burned. “Why are you doing this?”
“Sorry?”
“You don’t need me. You’ve got a team of highly qualified agents.”
“We talked about this at the beginning, Kate. I asked you to be involved so that you can prove you deserve to be here. That you shouldn’t be judged solely on the results of your operational training.” He paused for a moment. “Was I wrong?”
“No. I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to give me every chance to succeed.” She’d wanted to tell him that that was the problem, but this wasn’t about her, not right now. It was all too easy to slide down that slippery slope of questioning her worth, but she would need to put an end to it now and focus on the task at hand.
“I don’t understand where this is coming from,” Nick continued. “Last night, you were pumped; you were ready to tackle anything. What’s changed?”
“Nothing.” Kate closed her eyes. “I’ll get down to the WFO and get with Vasquez.” She ended the call, keeping from him the reason for her second-guessing. Self-doubt aside, she had a job to do.
» » »
The main hub inside the field office was where agents conducted much of their work, including background inquiries, database searches inside the many programs available to all law enforcement as well as several other daily operations that brought few accolades. It was the grunt work. These were the agents behind the scenes, performing necessary and critical operations that often brought praise to the field agents. This was where Kate wanted to be; in the background, far from the center of attention where she’d spent the better part of the last three years.
She opened the files they’d received from the telecom provider. The phone numbers would be cross-referenced to find matches to either Kovac or Corbett. Right now, Kate stared at a screen that showed her hundreds of numbers. “Thank you for helping, Agent Vasquez. I’m not that familiar with how this works.”
“No problem.” Vasquez punched a few keys and brought up another screen. “Give me a minute here, and we’ll be able to get these matched.” She continued to punch in commands of which Kate hadn’t yet learned.
“So, how’s your training going?” she asked, continuing to work on the information.
“It’s not easy.”
“No. It’s not easy,” she replied. “But Agent Scarborough is convinced you can handle it.” She looked to Kate. “He’s the best agent I’ve ever worked with and I’ve worked with some of the best. If he has confidence in you, then you should too.” A short pause. “Here,” Vasquez pointed to the monitor. “See the highlighted numbers? Those numbers come from VOIP applications. They show up as data usage on the telecom records, but we can see the assigned numbers.”
“Voice-over internet protocol? Internet phone numbers,” Kate replied.
“That’s right. And the data usage gives us an approximate location to Richmond and Alexandria. Druseburg was using his cell phone to call these VOIP numbers.”
“So, no cell phone numbers are coming up as registered to James Corbett or Stan Kovac?” Kate supposed it was a long shot that those men would use a registered number, but at least they would know for sure.”
“Not that I can tell, but we can get more details on these records and apply for other information,” Vasquez replied.
“What kind of details?” Kate asked.
“Emails, text messages, pretty much anything and everything relating to electronic information sent from his cell phone. For this information here,” she pointed to the screen again, “we only needed a court order showing reasonable cause. But for historical information and access to emails and such, that requires a subpoena to the cellular provider. But it’s easier to get than you might think.”
“I’ll need to show this to Agents Scarborough and Jameson. Can you email it to me?” Kate relayed her address.
“Of course.” Vasquez’s fingers glided across the keyboard. “Heading your way now.”
“Thank you, Agent Vasquez. You’ve been a tremendous help.” Kate rose from her chair.
“Good luck.”
Vasquez had sent the report. It wasn’t what Kate had hoped to find, but it did prove that Druseburg was in contact with someone in Richmond the day after Madlena Jankovic disappeared; a day after Corbett was seen in Petrovich’s bar. What many people don’t understand about most smartphones was that they almost constantly transmitted GPS locations and telecom companies held onto that information.
She hustled towards Nick’s office to make the call, coming upon Agent Myers’ office along the way. “You’re here?” She stopped in front of her doorway, offering a welcoming smile.
“I am,” Myers replied. “You look like you’re in a hurry. What’s going on?”
“Phone records. I was going to give Agent Scarborough a call and let him know what I found. Does he know you’re back in town?”
“Sadly no. Not yet. I just got back and need to finish with a few more reports.”
“Well, it’s good to see you. Hope we can grab some dinner soon. It’d be nice to catch up.”
“Sure thing,” Georgia replied. “You’d better get in touch with Agent Scarborough.”
With her cell phone in hand, Kate pressed on the contact button to call Nick as soon as she stepped foot inside his office. After the third ring, she expected his voicemail, but he finally picked up.
“It’s Kate, I got those records and Vasquez was able to get a general location on calls made by Druseburg to VOI
P numbers, they appear to center around Richmond, and the dates coincide with Madlena’s disappearance.”
“Email it to me and copy Jameson.”
» » »
Detective Garrett returned to his office with papers in hand. “Here.” He had printed the report and placed it in front of Nick. “What do we have?” Garrett sat down and began to examine the records.
“According to Reid,” Nick began, “and now that I have a chance to look at this in a little more detail, it looks like Druseburg was in contact with someone in Richmond a few days before Virginia Beach PD found Madlena’s body. I think we have enough to subpoena the contents of these records and get an exact location on the VOIP calls.”
“We still got eyes on Druseburg?” Jameson asked. “I’m ready to bring the son of a bitch in.”
“Franks has been keeping him under surveillance.” Nick understood where his partner was coming from and was beginning to feel the same. The sheer amount of red tape bullshit was hard to overcome. And while they were getting closer to obtaining what they needed. The time it would take to get something solid was time they didn’t have.
Detective Garrett opened up his files. “I spoke with security at the marina earlier this morning. Here’s what they’ve sent me.”
“What are we looking at exactly?” Nick asked.
“I asked them to run the names of the lessors of their slips, see if we can match any of them to Corbett. No luck there, but they also have records of who purchased fuel at their docks. Last night, a purchase was made at the pump after hours. We’re tracking down the buyer, although it appears that it was a purchase made on a prepaid card. We’re looking to see if that card was registered online.”
“So we still don’t have any assurances that Corbett was there last night and Kovac’s nowhere to be found?” Nick could feel the heat rise under his collar and he was starting to side with Jameson. “Fuck it. You know what? I’m bringing Druseburg in now. His DNA was found on Madlena’s body. I’ll haul his ass in for solicitation if nothing else. I don’t give a shit how high profile this guy is or how good his lawyers are. We know she was one of Corbett’s victims, thanks to his arrogance in electing to brand the women. I’m not waiting for a subpoena.” Nick slammed down the lid of his laptop. “I’m done screwing around. I won’t wait for more girls to be taken and sold as goddamn slaves.” He stood up and looked to Jameson. “We’ll find Corbett too. One way or another, this shit ends now. ”
EIGHTEEN
Martin Druseburg walked into his spacious and pristine closet to retrieve his luggage, which was tucked beside a built-in chest of drawers made from rich cherry. He told his office he was going to Tokyo to meet with a software engineer, however, none of that was actually true. The truth about Druseburg was about to come out; he was about to be hauled into FBI custody. The attorney, who was very well paid to help hide his extracurricular activities, had many contacts, one of whom informed him of the FBI’s intent to bring charges. Of course, he immediately suggested a deal could keep him out of prison, or at the very least, ensure a lesser charge, but that would do little to salvage the wealthy man’s reputation.
He hadn’t wanted her dead. The girl took the drugs of her own accord. Druseburg had no choice but to get rid of the body when he discovered her with foam around her mouth and eyes rolled into the back of her head. Then that son of bitch, Corbett, decided he needed to brand his girls, like cattle. If that damn tattoo hadn’t been on her body, no one would have known she was linked to Corbett. Stupid fuck. The girl was supposed to be untraceable; a byproduct of a dysfunctional immigration system.
Druseburg fumed as he tossed his shirts into the bag. He’d already made the call to his pilot and the jet was waiting for him at the airport. A small box rested on a shelf inside his closet. He lifted the lid and opened the cylinder inside. The bump of coke would be enough to keep his nerves in check until he boarded the plane.
He zipped up the bag and headed downstairs where his driver waited outside in the car. Getting out of the country before the shit storm hit was his only chance. Extradition, if he got caught, would take years, and he had enough money hidden in offshore accounts and it would take even longer to shut them down. Those feds thought they were smart. But he was smarter.
Standing at the front door, he looked behind him, shaking his head because leaving this house was tough. Sons of bitches were driving him out and it pissed him off more. He pulled open the door and pushed his sunglasses onto his face. “Get in the car. We need to get the hell out of here now.”
The man he was speaking to raised his head. It wasn’t his driver. “Mr. Druseburg? This is courtesy of Mr. Mercer.” The man fired the weapon and Druseburg dropped to the ground.
» » »
Kate was beginning to feel that she was on the downhill slide at the Academy with only seven weeks left, and that she’d found her focus once again. This was partly due to what had transpired over the course of the investigation, and partly thanks to Nicola and the strength she and her mother had shown through all of it. Kate was starting to believe that her life could be transformed and that she could do this on her own.
She’d faced down a scared kid pointing a gun at her; disarmed him with skill and intelligence. Kate deserved to be here and she had nothing to prove to anyone, except herself.
“You ready to do this?” Will asked, securing his vest.
“I’m ready.” Kate pulled down the shield on her helmet, ready for the hostage rescue. A Hogan’s Alley training operation was about to begin.
Four members were on her team and they now stood outside the fictitious bank. Inside was a band of robbers, holding five people hostage. Armed with automatic rifles and handguns, the bank robbers were ready to take the innocent lives if it meant saving their own.
This was a cakewalk for Caison, or so Kate believed. He’d faced far worse conditions searching for Taliban in Iraq. Only they were usually armed with bombs and didn’t mind dying, and if they took their hostages with them, then all the better.
The instructor gave the signal. The mission was on.
Caison took the lead. “Diaz, Fillmore, flank the rear entrance. Reid, head to the side of the building, but stay in view.”
The team did as instructed. Will made the call to the leader inside. He would attempt to negotiate before authorizing any action.
Kate remained at her post, waiting for the go-ahead. She felt more confident than before. Perhaps it had been because it was not a one-on-one situation; that she was operating inside a team. She would not question where her strength was coming from, just that she was grateful to have it.
One of the hostages was emerging through the front entrance. It appeared the negotiations were working. Her hands were raised and the man behind her with the gun kept it pointed directly at her back in the event someone attempted to charge ahead.
“Over here. You’re okay. Come on. I got you.” Kate moved towards the hostage once the gun-wielding man was back inside, and led her to the waiting ambulance.
She looked to Caison, who waved for her to get back into position. He continued the dialog, but no further hostages were being released.
The radio on her jacket came to life. “Diaz, Fillmore, take the back entrance,” Will said.
Kate waited at the side, weapon raised and ready to leap ahead at his command.
Once the others were inside, gunfire erupted and she witnessed one of the thieves going down.
“Now!” Will bolted to the front entrance with Kate on his heels.
They pushed through the doors.
“Get down!”
The hostages dropped to the ground while the bandits continued in a gun battle with Diaz and Fillmore.
Kate came face to face with one of the men wearing a skullcap and a bandana wrapped around his mouth so only his nose and eyes were exposed. Her heart pounded and her body buzzed with adrenaline. “Drop your weapon.” Her voice carried more weight than she had expected, but the thief still held on
to his rifle. “Drop your weapon now!” This time, her demand was firm. Her resolve, complete. Not that different from the night she faced down Gregor Bjuric. “I’ve got this gun pointed right at your goddamn head. Drop the fucking weapon.”
For a split second, she believed the man was going to fire, but she watched the gun and it didn’t flinch. Not a single shift in his stance, not a movement of his fingers. If she pulled the trigger before exhausting all other options, it could mean a failure.
The man lowered the gun to the ground and when he stood, raised his arms in surrender.
“Kick it over,” she said.
Caison and the other teammates managed to either take down or get the remaining operatives to surrender. They were now working to free the hostages and Kate was facing the final threat.
The man kicked the gun towards her. With her weapon still pointing at the criminal, Kate walked towards him, spun him around, and pushed him to the ground. Once her gun was holstered, she straddled the man and cuffed his hands behind his back.
Inside the control room, Nick watched the events unfold along with the three instructors.
“Well, son of a bitch. Did you see that?” A sly smile slowly formed across Nick’s face.
Agent Hawes conveyed a reluctant grin. “Guess she had it in her all along. Just needed to pry it from beneath the weight of her own doubts.”
“I wasn’t wrong about her.”
“No. You weren’t wrong,” Hawes replied.
Nick patted Hawes on his back and left the dimly lit control room. He’d wanted to be the first to congratulate his protégé. He arrived out on the streets just as Kate was returning her gear. “Hey.”
She turned around and noticed the look on his face. “So, I guess I did all right?”
“You know you did.”
A rare coy expression masked her face because she knew he’d seen it. They both knew she passed the test.
