Bombshell (AN FBI THRILLER)

by Catherine Coulter

  He let his mind return to the victims, picture them in death. Tommy Cronin’s dead, bone-white face, Stony’s peaceful face, then, finally, Peter Biaggini’s, covered in blood.

  Savich saw Stony’s face clearly in his mind, saw the bewilderment, the horror when they’d accused him of uploading Tommy’s photo. No, Stony hadn’t done that, but he knew who had, and it had shaken his world. A user of people wouldn’t have cared so much. Was he the innocent victim in all this?

  His thoughts drifted and time passed until he realized he was circling back on himself, torturing and distorting his own thoughts to make them fit the facts. He still had too few of them, and he would have to find more.

  His cell played Bob Dylan again.

  “Dillon? Delsey here.”

  He went immediately on alert.

  “No, no, everything’s okay here. Remember my pilot, Agent Davis Sullivan, who flew me in from Maestro? He’s here, and I’d like to go to the Bonhomie Club with him tonight.”

  “Maybe that wouldn’t be too smart, Delsey.”

  “Maybe Davis and I could come to the CAU and talk about this with you?”

  Savich smiled into the phone. “Tell you what, invite Davis over for dinner tonight. Tell him I’ve got an idea I want to talk over with him.”

  He punched off, leaving Delsey midsentence trying to wrangle more out of him. His phone buzzed a message. From Bo Horsley. Heard about kid’s murder. Call me when get it finished.

  Jesse stuck his head in. “All done, Savich. Wait till you see the sketch.”

  Maestro, Virginia

  Tuesday morning

  Thank heaven Rob and Rafe were in school, Ruth thought, as a dozen DEA agents in Kevlar vests piled into her house with her husband, Anna, and Griffin to talk strategy. There were eight men and four women among them, all talking, all pumped, downing cups of coffee at a manic clip from two huge urns and lacing up their hiking boots. Their MP-5 assault rifles were a daunting sight piled by the front wall, black satchels next to them holding additional magazines. She looked over at the piles of headlamps and flashlights everyone would need.

  They were going to war. In a cave. She felt a spurt of fear for Dix, quashed it fast. If anyone could handle himself, it was her husband. She looked over at him, speaking to Mac Brannon, who was in charge of the operation. Anna had told her that her boss, Mr. Brannon, was a hardnose, but not unfair, and thankfully he didn’t seem to be a do-it-my-way-or-else type thus far, but who knew? He was creeping up on fifty, tall and fit, with a salt-and-pepper crew cut and a rock-solid stubborn jaw. He seemed absolutely in control.

  Griffin was speaking in a low voice to Anna, who looked very unlike the waitress at Maurie’s Diner this morning. Her long hair was braided in a single tail, wound around a couple of times and fastened at the base of her neck. She was wearing black, like her fellow agents. She looked honed to the bone and tough, a major league butt-kicker among a herd of butt-kickers in Ruth’s living room. Griffin looked relaxed enough, Ruth could see, and showed no signs of being in pain since he’d taken some aspirin a short time before. She knew Anna didn’t want him to go, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut now that she’d figured out he’d be in on the op if he had to crawl, which he wouldn’t have to do, thankfully. He looked as pumped as all the other agents, and ready, despite the cane. If Mac Brannon also eyed that cane askance, he didn’t say anything.

  “People, listen up.”

  Everyone quieted, turned again to Mac Brannon.

  “If our intelligence is right, today we’re going to hit one of the biggest drug distribution operations in Virginia. And we’re going to take a bite out of MS-13. I’ve discussed strategy with Dix and Ruth, who know the cave well. We’ve also got three spelunkers with us—raise your hands, guys—thank you. So if you get into trouble, ask them for help.

  “We’re fortunate that Ruth and Dix have been through both entrances of Winkel’s Cave, front and back. We’ll be splitting up, and when both teams are in position, we’ll go in together. They’ll have no way out.”

  “Anna, you’re Team One leader. Claus will be your guide inside the cave. Ruth expects the front entrance to be barred, probably chained. Claus will be bringing a hydraulic rescue tool he borrowed from the fire department along to cut through any locks or chains you might find. If you can’t get through, you’ll still have the exit covered for us, but this is unlikely, since the gang would want both exits available to them.

  “I’ll be Team Two leader. Dix and Ruth will fill us in on what to expect when we reach the rear entrance of the cave. We don’t know how many gang members will be inside, don’t know if Salazar will be there. Remember, they attacked Griffin and Anna with automatic weapons last night, and grenades. You will be fighting in an alien environment, one that will require discipline and concentration. I want no casualties, so keep focused. Let’s suit up and get it done.”

  Three minutes later they were climbing into the SUVs assigned to them and heading out onto the road.

  The Hoover Building

  Tuesday noon

  Jesse Griggs handed Savich the sketch he’d made of the man Melissa saw in Peter Biaggini’s apartment lobby.

  Savich looked at the sketch, then at Melissa Ivy. She met his eyes, her eyes as blue and limpid as a paradise lagoon. He said, “You’re sure this is the man, Ms. Ivy?”

  “It’s close. But I told you, I barely saw him, so—” She shrugged.

  “He looks,” Jesse said slowly, “a lot like the news anchor on the CBS six o’clock news.”

  Savich’s expression didn’t change. Jesse was right. He felt a spurt of anger, then calmed. What game was she playing with them?

  He leaned over the table, his hands flat, and said not six inches from her face, “You realize, Ms. Ivy, that if you’re lying about any of this and keep it up, you will go to prison for obstruction of justice? By the time you get out of jail, you’ll be too old for TV. You understand me?”

  Melissa pressed herself against the back of her chair, to get as far away from him as she could. She looked terrified.

  Good. She couldn’t play them well if she was terrified. “I’m waiting, Ms. Ivy,” Savich said. “Your choice.”

  She rose straight up in her chair. “All right! But I didn’t lie. I came here to help you. I didn’t realize I was describing Scott Pelley’s face on TV. I watch the news show every night, and I got confused. I told you, I didn’t see the man well. I’m not lying about seeing him, though, swear it.” She lowered her face in her hands and burst into tears.

  Savich straightened, nodded to Lucy. She sat beside Melissa, lightly rubbed her fingers over her arm. “Come on, Melissa. You’ll make your eyes all puffy and your mascara will smear. Who knows what kind of photos or footage you’ll be in today, and you won’t look very good. That wouldn’t do, now, would it? Come on, now, get yourself together, and trust me on this: telling the truth is the only way to go or you’ll spend tonight in jail.”

  Slowly, Melissa Ivy raised her face to Savich, looking, he thought, like she was ready to enter the Miss America pageant. Her mascara was perfect, and her unshed tears sparkled like diamonds. She looked gorgeous. She leaned toward him, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. “I didn’t make it up, Agent Savich. I did see someone. But I did make up some of the sketch, I guess.”

  “Why?”

  He saw her thinking madly, her brain squirreling around, and wondered if she would treat him to another fiction. Finally, she raised her chin and looked him square in the eyes. “I didn’t get all made up like this for you, Agent Savich. I thought since I’m a witness I might be interviewed by the press. I loved Tommy and Peter, and I’ve lost both of them. Their funerals are tomorrow. I thought there might be a chance for me to, you know, get some coverage in the news, get myself known at some of the news stations as a promising young student.”

  She was fast, he’d give her that, and not a bad actress.

  “That’s very resilient of you, Ms. Ivy, especially c
onsidering neither Tommy nor Peter is around now to tide you over with money until you graduate. I imagine you’ll be down to hocking the earrings Tommy gave you for Christmas soon, won’t you?”

  She stared at him, pinned, biting her bottom lip. He saw her lipstick there was gone, not that it mattered.

  “You should be glad you didn’t do a good job with faking that sketch. If you had told the media you’d helped us with a sketch of the murderer, you might have risked your own life. This way, you’ve just wasted only a bit of our time.”

  He watched the myriad emotions chase across her face. Primarily, he saw, she was appalled she’d gotten herself in this fix. He watched her and waited.

  She looked everywhere but at him. Finally, she lowered her face and whispered, “You’re right, Agent Savich, it’s not a secret I don’t have any money. I’m doing what I’m good at, trying to keep going somehow. And I’m afraid.”

  “Is there a reason you haven’t told us, Ms. Ivy? Something you know?”

  “No, nothing like that. But everyone I know is dying, and no one knows why.”

  He said, “You have a right to be scared, Melissa, but not to be stupid. Instead of trying to scam us, you can help us.”

  “How?”

  “I’m going to search Peter’s apartment today, and I’d like your help in searching yours.”

  Winkel’s Cave, front entrance

  Team One

  Claus parked the lead SUV on the shoulder of Wolf Trap Road that ran north and south about a hundred yards west of Winkel’s Cave. They had driven in slowly, all eyes alert for any movement, but no one was surprised they didn’t see anyone, not out here in the sticks three miles out of Maestro. There had been a couple of derelict houses spaced far apart, visible through the falling snow, but no sign of life.

  The second SUV pulled up behind them, and everyone climbed out. They circled Claus, huddled together, their breaths mingling white puffs in the still air. They knew the light, lazy flakes wouldn’t last long. They were in for another heavy snow in a couple of hours.

  Claus pointed. “The entrance to the cave is a hundred yards in through the maple and pine trees. There’s a rough path, but there’ll be a lot of rocks hidden by the snow, so be careful.” He checked to see that everyone’s flashlight and headlamp worked. They checked their weapons and the extra magazines in at their belts. They were ready. Claus nodded to Anna.

  Anna said, “We didn’t see any signs of tire tracks coming in, but since it’s been snowing for a while now, they could be covered up. Best to assume they will have guards stationed near the front of the cave, even though Dix and Ruth think it’s closed down. Surprise is the key, so we’ll go in quiet, split up, and come at the cave entrance from opposite sides. If the sheriff is right and it looks abandoned, Claus will cut through the iron gate with his combi-tool and we’ll follow him in.”

  Claus cleared his throat, so nervous and excited he could scarcely get enough spit into his mouth. He cleared his throat again. He’d already told them, but he couldn’t help repeating it again. “An explosion was set off in the cave last year—someone trying to cover up a murder—so the passage leading toward the rear entrance was caved in last time I was here. We’ll be climbing down before we get to it, and you may start to encounter some sharp debris from the explosion, shards of limestone and dolomite, rocks and dust. It may be slippery from the dust, so follow my lead.”

  Anna picked it up. “As we’ve already discussed, some of the gang members have to be using Winkel’s Cave as their living quarters, if only to defend their stash at night. We’ll hope they cleared the debris away to give them access to more room and another exit.” Anna looked at each agent’s face, most of whom she knew, some married, some with kids, some drinking buddies or movie buffs, but all were smart, tough people. “We have ten minutes before we head into the cave.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s move out.”

  She nodded to Claus, and he stepped down into a snow-filled ditch, holding the heavy cutting tool in both arms, and walked toward the thick woods. The agents filed in behind him. Anna stayed with Griffin at the back of the line, since with the leg wound the going would be slow. She knew he was grateful Brannon hadn’t decided to leave him behind.

  They made their way quietly through the thick pine and maple trees, as silent as the falling snow dusting them and the trees around them in white. The morning was pure, that was the word that came to Griffin, and there was no wind. It was, he thought, like walking through a winter postcard—well, walking a bit on the slow side—and there might be people shooting at them soon.

  A twig snapped beneath Anna’s hiking boot. She froze. He whispered, “It’s okay, only a field mouse could hear that.” Griffin knew he was holding Anna back, Anna the team leader, stuck staying back with him.

  “Wipe the frown off your face. You’re doing great,” she whispered, her breath cold on his cheek. “Don’t worry, Captain America. We’re going to make it to the cave on time. I’m thinking they’ll come running into our arms.”

  “Right into your Kevlar? Got it on tight?”

  “Sure, and you?”

  “I’m good to go. I figure since we didn’t bite the big one last night when they blew up our cars, we’re sprinkled with magic dust. It only looks like snow.”

  She couldn’t help saying it. “I want you to promise me you won’t hot-dog. I’m the team leader here, all right?”

  He gave her a blazing smile.

  Claus raised his hand, and everyone stopped. He pointed across a small clearing.

  About twenty yards in front of them was Winkel’s Cave. It was set into a hillside, surrounded by weeds and undergrowth, and offered a tall, narrow opening covered with an iron-barred gate. A large sign was nailed next to the opening: NO TRESPASSING. It looked deserted, no footprints in the snow, nothing. They listened, heard more nothing.

  Anna went to stand by Claus, and pointed at each of them in turn, assigning them to either side of the cave entrance. She and Claus walked slowly to the barred gate along the side of the hill, the agents covering them. They would be blind for a moment if there was anyone inside the cave watching them from the darkness. She turned on her flashlight and peered through the bars. There was no one there. It was time. She whispered, “Claus, get the gate opened.” She stepped back.

  The hydraulic cutter snapped the thick chain holding the gate, and it clunked to the ground, hitting a pile of rocks. It sounded like a cannon shot in the silence.

  Anna checked to see everyone had turned on his headlamp. She met each agent’s eyes, nodded. She looked at her watch, raised her hand. “Let’s go. Talk in whispers, and only if you need to,” and motioned to Claus to lead them in.

  Anna held up her hand again when they were all inside. There was no sound except their quiet breathing. The ceiling was high enough so they could walk upright, even Rodney Bengal, who was six foot four. They went around a corner, walked down a couple of steps, avoiding scattered rocks. Claus stopped, and everyone closed in behind him. The darkness was absolute beyond their headlamps. And quiet, Griffin thought. It was the quiet inside the cave that surprised him the most. He clearly heard Anna’s breathing.

  Around them was an incredible sweep of spectacular draperies, towering stalagmites. Claus whispered, “Don’t touch them, they’re fragile, and loud if they fall.” He realized then that if any shooting started, there’d be destruction all around them. “Stay close.”

  As they moved down a twisty passage with a low ceiling, Claus whispered, “We’re going to have to bend down ahead for maybe ten feet or so, then the ceiling will rise up again. It’s narrow there, too, but don’t worry, it’ll soon widen out.”

  The cave walls closed in, and soon most of them were bent double. Griffin gritted his teeth and bent. To his surprise, his leg didn’t have much to say.

  Claus said, “We’re going to have to crawl here, but it’s not a long passage, no more than twenty feet.”

  He could do twenty feet, not a problem, Grif
fin thought, and crawled.

  Claus stopped, and everyone stilled. “This is the passage that caved in last year,” he whispered. “You see the debris along the sides? It was completely blocked, but they’ve cleared it. We’ll get through now.”

  Anna said quietly, “Wait up. I hear something.”

  Winkel’s Cave, front entrance

  Team Two

  Dix turned his Range Rover right off onto a single-lane road gouged with deep ruts and piles of rocks and fallen branches. There was no banter among his passengers, no conversation at all. The only sound was the rhythmic click of the windshield wipers brushing away the light snowfall.

  They passed a couple of old wooden houses set in hollows of land a good way back from the road, surrounded by trees, snow piled high around them and over the old cars parked in the driveways. The whole valley was pristine white and silent as the snow fell lazily from a gray sky.

  Ruth pointed. “That last house belonged to Walt McGuffey. He died last year. His heir showed up, looked at the house, closed it up, and left. It’s not far now.”

  The road dead-ended fifty yards later.

  Dix said, “We can’t go off-road in the snow. So pile out, people. We got us a ways to walk now.”

  The snow drifted so deep here it was inside their boots within fifteen steps of the road. Dix paused. “Upslope to your left is Lone Tree Hill. See the single oak tree standing on top of the rise? It’s been there since before I had feet on the ground. On the far side of the hill, about a hundred yards away, is where Highway 70 runs. There’s a dogleg on a country road exit off the highway there, so you can’t see beyond it from the highway. They’ve got to be parking their vehicles under the trees there when they bring in their supplies, drugs, food, whatever they need, right over Lone Tree Hill.