Back-Tracker

by Bob Blink

  Varennikov moved easily through the crowd, almost as if he could anticipate how those around him would move and easily made small corrections in his own movements to slip between the passersby leaving little disturbance to mark his passage. Jake moved across the street, and followed along at the same pace, allowing himself to fall back somewhat to make himself more one of the crowd.

  Varennikov was a trained operative, and would know how to spot a tail. Jake was certain he was watching for someone, and therefore wondered if he should be doing this. He didn’t want to alert the man that someone had an interest in him. Jake had tailed a number of people over the years, but his technique, which was foolproof, was something he couldn’t employ tonight. Normally he followed without worry until something gave him away. Then he simply back-tracked, positioned his earlier self at a new location slightly ahead of where he’d been discovered the previous time, and waited for his suspect to come to him. Then he repeated the process. By the time the tail was complete, Jake could simply be waiting somewhere in the crowd where the person he was interested in ended up, effectively not having ‘followed’ the suspect at all, and therefore not subject to being spotted.

  That wouldn’t work tonight, and Jake was getting nervous. He was risking too much. If Varennikov decided someone was interested in him, he might change something important in the coming days. Jake stopped moving with the crowd and came to a stop next to a bakery shop. He turned to head back the way he’d come, when he momentarily spotted a face he recognized. Don Graper. One of those on his short list to watch. The crowd surged on the far side of the street and the face disappeared, and when the group that had blocked Jake’s view cleared, the face was gone.

  Jake realized that he’d been so focused on Varennikov that he’d not paid any attention to the possibility of someone following him. Carefully, he scanned the far side of the street, and then saw the back of someone headed the opposite direction. He couldn’t be certain, but that might be the man he’d seen. Quickly, Jake set off after the departing figure, stepping into the street and working his way through the slow moving cars.

  The departing figure would disappear, and then reappear as he moved opposite to the bulk of the pedestrians. Twice he looked back. Jake couldn’t tell if he’d been spotted and couldn’t get a reasonable look at the man’s face to confirm his suspicions.

  Jake fought the surge, and twice he thought he’d lost the man. Then, at an intersection, Jake realized he couldn’t see the figure ahead. Fearful he might have lost him, Jake patiently scanned the crowd. Then he looked down the side street. The crowd was thinner here and the street much darker. Taking a chance, Jake headed down the side street, knowing the man couldn’t have cut across the street to go the other way without having been seen, but not certain he hadn’t continued the direction they had been headed.

  For a long time he didn’t see anything, then he spotted a figure moving carefully through the shadows. Jake increased his pace, but somehow the fleeing figure had spotted him. The man he was chasing increased his own pace, coming to another busy main street and turning back the direction they had come, but on a parallel block. By the time Jake made the turn, the other was well ahead. When Jake sprinted after the receding figure, the other happened to glance back, and seeing Jake coming after him, he took a chance, charging out into the busy street, nearly being struck as he dodged between the cars and crossed to the other side. Jake looked at the traffic, the sounds of the horns still ringing in his ears. With the bright lights he couldn’t see where the man had gone, and he decided he wasn’t going to risk making a similar run into traffic. He knew what he had seen, and he thought he might now know who it was that had an interest in him.

  Jake flagged down a taxi and returned to the hotel. He talked to Karin, telling her of developments and of spotting the FBI agent, reassuring her that he’d made no attempts to back-track. Then he called Carlson. He wanted to know everything he could about Graper. He didn’t mention Varennikov. His involvement was something she would learn about later.

  Chapter 33

  They discussed the events of the previous day when they got together before the daily meeting the next morning. Jake hadn’t called Laney the night before, so Jake took a moment and brought the agent up to speed.

  “Are you certain it was Don Graper?” he asked.

  “Not in a way that would be acceptable as proof of anything, but even though I only got a brief glance, I’m certain it was him. There are only a handful of people on our list, and they are distinctly different looking individuals. It was Graper.”

  “I did some preliminary checking from home,” Carlson said. “I wasn’t able to find anything we hadn’t uncovered before. He has a solid record, even being decorated a couple of years ago. He lost a partner last year on a case. Apparently that affected him greatly, but he apparently managed to get past it and is back at work.”

  “He works for the Organized Crime Division,” Laney said.

  “He even worked the Kerns case when I was part of the committee,” Carlson added.

  “That’s an interesting coincidence,” Jake said, considering the revelation.

  “I had a similar thought, but how would he connect you to that? And why would he be following you?”

  Jake shrugged. “The only encounter I’ve had with him was in the meeting yesterday.” Jake explained Laney’s off-hand comment and the possibility that Graper had overheard.

  “It has to be something else,” Carlson said. “I can’t see someone deciding to follow you based on something as simple as that.”

  “Perhaps he’s been around and we haven’t realized it,” Laney suggested.

  Carlson shook her head. “Graper has been out of town for the past three weeks. I tapped him his first day back in Washington. He hadn’t been assigned to anything new, so he was available.”

  “We’ve missed something, obviously,” Jake said. “I’ve been paying attention, and I haven’t seen him before yesterday.”

  “Could he have overheard anything you two talked about at dinner?” Carlson asked.

  “It would have been difficult. The restaurant was busy, noisy, and we were somewhat isolated. I think we would have noticed him if he’d been anywhere nearby.”

  “I guess the thing to do is make certain his assignment is something that keeps him well away from you and anything you might be doing,” Carlson said.

  “No!” Jake objected. “We shouldn’t shift anything around. Besides, I need to see what he does. Now that I’m aware of him, I might learn who he speaks to and how the leak spreads. Whatever assignment you’ve given him, he should keep.”

  “I didn’t assign him, but he’s currently tasked as one of those keeping an eye on the factory in Alexandria.”

  “Good. Let’s leave him there. It’s out of the way, especially if he’s mostly working nights, and yet close enough I can watch him.”

  “Meanwhile, I’ll dig a little deeper into his history,” Carlson said. “I want to know where he’s been and what he was doing. Something feels wrong about him.”

  “Just be careful,” Jake warns. “If this is the leak that is behind the whole Ray situation, then we don’t want to disturb the flow of events. This is the first real lead I’ve had on this whole thing.”

  “I understand,” Carlson replied. “We’ve more bad news by the way. Jake already knows this, but for Laney’s benefit, you should know that the canisters that were processed from the mall yesterday revealed something new. While some had Sarin gas, the others didn’t contain anthrax. They were filled with something even worse. Apparently a form of botulism toxin is stored in some of the new ones. This stuff is really nasty! I’m told it is probably the most lethal substance known. Like the anthrax it has a time delay, so those exposed won’t show symptoms for twelve to seventy-two hours. Ninety percent of those exposed inside the mall would most likely die. If one of these canisters was triggered outside where the wind could disperse the toxin, I’m told ten percent of those within a
half a kilometer downwind of where the device was located would certainly die. Perhaps more.”

  “You knew of this?” Laney asked.

  Jake nodded unhappily.

  “Are there more types of agents still waiting to be discovered?”

  Jake dodged the answer. “It doesn’t matter. Whether there are the three agents, or several more, if they are released we have no way to deal with them. The death toll would be unimaginable. The solution is to find where the canisters are located and who is behind this and stop them before they can act. That’s what worked last time, and we are on the same path.”

  “Somehow I don’t feel like we are getting much closer to solving this,” Carlson said. “Meanwhile, those clocks continue to countdown to their trigger date.”

  Jake wondered what she would say if he told her that date was bogus, and those behind all of this had every intention of triggering the devices well before the date shown on the counters in the devices they had seen.

  “What about last night?” Laney asked. “Did the vans go out to another location?”

  “Surprisingly not. There was no activity at the factory at all. I’m not sure what that means. I hope they haven’t finished putting the canisters in place. The team trying to find them by random facilities checks haven’t had much luck. We need to be led to them.”

  Carlson checked her watch. “It’s about time for the morning meeting.” She looked back at Jake. “I’m curious. Last night when you lost Graper, assuming it was him, did you consider back-tracking in order to verify it was him?”

  “I did,” Jake admitted. “I feel that I could do so, but besides being concerned what would happen to this investigation if I wound up back in the hospital by doing so, I’m frankly a bit afraid of trying. I feel that is something that I should do carefully under controlled conditions once we are past this whole thing.”

  “I’m glad that you chose the way you did,” Carlson said. “Besides the status of this investigation, the more time you allow yourself, the more likely you will have recovered. Of course, it might have told you something important if it turned out not to be him.”

  “It was Graper,” Jake said with certainty. “It feels right somehow, and despite the brief look I got at him, I have no doubt who I was seeing.”

  Chapter 34

  Agent Don Graper had the better part of the day free. He knew he’d be on stakeout tonight watching the factory from which the deadly canisters were being deployed. He’d been on watch from ten PM the previous night getting home only a few hours ago. He should be sleeping, but had been curious about what he might have captured on his phone. He’d tried playing it back while he waited in the car for long hours, but the tiny speakers and the amount of background noise had made the recording all but unintelligible. Running it through his computer hadn’t helped very much.

  Graper couldn’t believe how close he’d come to being caught the previous night. He still couldn’t understand what had caused Trask to suddenly shift gears and turn back the way he had come. Graper had been certain the man was following someone, although trying to keep track of Trask in the heavy crowd had precluded Graper from seeing who it might have been. Then suddenly, Trask had simply dropped his pursuit. At first Graper had thought he’d gotten away clean, and had tried to slip deeper into the crowd, but when he checked, Trask was headed in his direction. The man had seen something that drew his interest. Even so, Graper couldn’t believe he’d been identified. Trask didn’t know him, and had only been in the one meeting yesterday where Graper had been present. Graper was certain that Trask hadn’t looked his way once during the meeting.

  Still, the man had realized he was being followed, and had correctly located his pursuer. Trask had followed him, and only the dangerous escape across the busy lanes of traffic had allowed Graper to get away. Time would reveal if the man had seen more than Graper believed.

  For his own part, Graper had caught the odd comment that Laney had made at the end of the briefing yesterday, and had also noticed the fleeting look of annoyance that crossed Trask’s face. An experienced agent with good instincts, the comment and reaction resonated with Graper. Why would Trask have known about the warehouse in advance? He might have let the matter alone, but he’d long been interested in Carlson. He’d heard rumors about her consultants, and their supposed role in the long string of successes she’d put together bringing down mass murders and internal terrorists. He’d first met her after the cursed Kerns affair more than a year ago, and something then had struck him as odd. He’d sensed she’d known more than she was telling even then. When he spotted Trask and Laney late yesterday when they returned from Newport News, he’d decided on the spur of the moment to follow and see what he might learn.

  He almost dropped the matter when he’d seen where they went. The restaurant had been packed, and there was no opportunity to get anywhere close so that he might overhear what they were talking about. He’d taken a chance, taking a seat at the bar out of sight of the two agents. It was the only option open. There was no way he would get a table, and it wouldn’t have helped anyway. Nursing a beer, he’d had an idea when he saw the waitress returning from their table and placing their drink order with the bartender.

  Graper had walked over to the waitress and flashed his FBI credentials, explaining he was working an important case and needed her help. He handed her his cell phone which had an App that allowed the device to function as a voice recorder.

  “Drop this in the plants behind their booth,” he told the young woman. “I’ll recover it when they leave.”

  “That’s all I have to do?” she’d asked.

  Graper had smiled, dropped a twenty-dollar bill on her tray, and nodded. She shrugged, collected the drinks, and on the way he’d watched as she dropped the phone where he’d directed. Then he simply waited, eating a hamburger at the bar, until he saw the two agents stand and make for the entrance. It had been frustrating for Graper to watch the plants, having no idea what was happening on the far side. As soon as the coast was clear, he’d hurried over, retrieved the phone, and started after the pair.

  He’d been surprised when they’d split up, but there was no question who he wanted to follow. He hadn’t expected to learn more, but Trask was the one who interested him. Laney was another agent, and one that Graper knew a little about. Trask was the unknown. Unfortunately, that’s how things had gone bad.

  Graper played the audio file back for the fourth time. The phone had been a little too far away and the background noise was too loud for him to extract very much. What he was able to learn didn’t make much sense. It sounded like Trask and Laney had worked together several times in the past, but Laney had no recollection of the events. How in hell could that be? Graper must be hearing wrong. The only seemingly clear section of audio was also confusing. It sounded as if Trask said something about looping back and making certain that someone who had died was prevented from doing so. If he’d said prevented someone who was wounded from dying, Graper wouldn’t have thought about it, but the clearest word in the whole segment was ‘died’.

  Graper moved the little slider on the computer playback carefully, and ran it at slow speed to try and ferret out the words.

  “Do you want breakfast?” Sandra Graper asked loudly enough to drown out the words Don Graper was trying so hard to hear. Sandra Graper was Don’s mother, and she’d come back with him when he’d returned from the West Coast. She was staying a couple of days, and then would fly to New York for a several week stay in the Big Apple with her sister.

  Graper shook his head, waving her away.

  “What are you listening to?” she asked. Sandra Draper didn’t like being ignored, and her son had been gone most of the time she’d been here, and now, when he was home, he was focused on some recording that sounded like a bunch of geese fighting over food.

  Graper sighed. He knew his mother. Unless he responded she’d keep at him until he relented. He decided to share the nonsense with her in hopes she would sha
ke her head in disgust and leave him alone.

  “It’s work, mom,” he said. “I’m trying to hear what a couple of suspects are saying, but they are in a restaurant and there is too much noise. The one guy seems to be saying that someone who was killed can be prevented from dying. You see why I’m frustrated?”

  Instead of the cryptic comment he’d expected, his mother said, “Sounds like a woman in the hair salon I was next to a couple of weeks ago. We were there for more than an hour and somehow she got started on this story how her husband had tried to kill her. In fact, she claimed she had been killed. Isn’t that crazy? According to her, her daughter had this friend, some guy named Meyers, or Mayhew, or something like that. I wasn’t really paying much attention. Anyway, he had some ability to go back and change things, and he was able to kill her husband before he shot her. Maybe it’s the same guy?” His mother chuckled, and then wandered off.

  Graper hadn’t really been listening, but was glad when his mother left. He slid the little control back to the point where the discussion he wanted started, and tried once again. He knew it was probably fruitless. He was going to have to get someone to clean up this audio. Someone unofficial, of course. He knew just the guy. He’d used him before. When he heard the section again, he shook his head. It couldn’t be saying what he thought he was hearing.

  Something in the back of his brain had been working while he was focused on the audio file. Although he’d only half been listening, the name his mother had spoken suddenly morphed into Mathews.