by Mark Terry
“Perhaps.”
“What about Jim Brewster?”
Makatashi shrugged. “I do not know. But, like myself, Mr. Brewster often interacts with members of government, both military and nonmilitary, active and inactive. Let me ask you the same question? How would you do such a thing?”
“Doing it in a way that won’t end up in prison or being brought to the attention of various intelligence agencies and law enforcement agencies is the key problem,” Derek said.
“Nice way of avoiding the question,” Anne said.
Derek nodded, accepting her point. “I know many, many active and retired special ops, as well as various people in various intelligence agencies worldwide. As well as a lot of military contractors. I don’t, off hand, know of any who would be hired out as assassins, but that doesn’t mean that they wouldn’t. Also, it would, for me, be a matter of putting the word out to people in that field who I trust.”
“Good job, Derek,” Sandy said. “I think that was another way of saying yes.”
Derek smiled at her. “Do you have any questions for Mr. Makatashi?”
35
Sandy
Outside the Makatashi Building, Orville was waiting for us. He was sitting on a ledge around a fountain, drinking from a bottle of Coke and eating from a large bag of Doritos.
We walked over. “This can’t be good.”
He proffered the bag to us. “Want some?”
I shook my head, but Stillwater stuck his hand in and took out a fistful. “How’d you know we were here?”
“Sandy told me.”
“Oh. Thought you were some sort of investigative genius.”
“I am, but not this time.” He looked at me. “You’re in trouble. And Captain Bains called me into his office to yell at me as your proxy.”
“I’m sorry, Orville. I’ll talk to Captain Bains.”
“And the Bomb Squad. And Detective Gardner. And—“
“The fire chief,” I said. “Yeah, I know.”
“Is this case going anywhere?” Orville asked.
“Sort of,” I said.
“It’s going to Texas,” said Stillwater. “At least, I think so. My instinct is to fly to Austin and poke around DynaCorp.”
“But if we go down there and start pushing at a CEO, he’s going to have a battalion of lawyers between us and him.”
“There’s no ‘we,’” Orville said. “Bains isn’t going to approve travel for you right now. And you heading out of state right now would freak out IA and everybody else.”
Stillwater munched away, frowning, watching the people walk down the street.
“Something on your mind, Derek?”
“I think we know the identity of this assassin. We have at least some idea of why he was killing people. We might even know who hired him. Now we need to prove it. This kind of sucks.”
“Gotta build a case,” Orville said. “Unless you want to just rendition a couple of their asses down to Gitmo and waterboard them for a while.”
A corner of Stillwater’s mouth curved upward for a fraction of a second. “Not really my style.”
“I read about you,” Orville said. “You’re more of a shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of guy. Try not to get Sandy killed.”
Stillwater focused on Orville. “I know you don’t want to trust me on this, but I’ve been cleared on all my actions. That’s not only why I’m not in prison, but why I’m still employed by Homeland Security. But my job is generally to identify terrorists before they commit their crimes and try to prevent them from killing people. This is a little different. We’re investigating a murder. That’s your thing, not mine. What do you recommend we do next?”
I said, “Well, if we can get a decent photograph of this Ronin, we can put out a BOLO.”
“Maybe even splash his face on TV,” Orville said. “Put pressure on him. Maybe someone will know where he’s staying. Turn him in.”
“And keep following leads,” Orville said. “Build a case.”
“Or,” I said, flashing Derek a smile, “we could set a trap.”
“Oh boy,” Orville said.
“Well,” Derek said. “We know the Ronin wants to kill you and me and probably Makashita. Which one of us is going to be the bait?”
36
James Brewster, Jr.
Jimmy Brewster strode down the hallway to his father’s office. His Executive Assistant, Walter Ko, worked behind a computer outside his office.
“Hi Walter. Dad in?”
“He’ll be available in a few minutes. He’s on a conference call.”
Walter Ko was older than Jimmy, who was forty-two. Ko was in his fifties and had worked for his father for over twenty years. A stocky man with graying black hair, a salt-and-pepper goatee and stylish black eyeglasses, Ko knew as much about the running of DynaCorp as anybody.
But Jimmy was the golden boy, almost literally, natural blond hair, a tan helped along by the Texas sun. Male-model handsome with high cheekbones and a square jaw.
“Something big?”
“Discussing strategy with Payton Cloville.”
Jimmy kept his opinion about Cloville to himself. Cloville was the head of Cloville Industries out of Atlanta. Cloville was into a lot of different things, including semiconductors, computer chips, and specialized parts for tanks and other military vehicles. Cloville Industries also owned eight percent of DynaCorp stock, so when Payton Cloville called, everybody had to listen.
“That could take forever,” Jimmy said. “Mind if I go in?”
“Just be quiet.”
“Of course.”
He walked past Walter and opened his father’s office door. It was, of course, a corner office, with spectacular views of the Colorado River. His father was behind his large rectangular smoked glass desk, leaning back in his big black leather executive’s chair.
Over the speakerphone the very southern accent of Payton Cloville was saying, “…so what’s going on with that French contract?”
“Payton, I can’t give you details about that. Let’s just say it’s coming along.”
“I’m not asking for insider information—“
James Brewster pointed at the phone, looking at this son, and rolled his eyes.
“—but I want some reassurance that you’re not going to lose another big contract like you did with that Tokyo one.”
“The proposal’s very good and Levec assures me that things look good. They like our tech and our proposal.”
“Well, good, good. Glad to hear that.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, Jim, that’s about it. You coming in to Atlanta soon?”
“Maybe. I’ll be in Washington in a couple weeks. Might have some good news out of that.”
“Really? Something good?”
“R&D contract. Also looking at some next-gen battery systems for all their systems.”
“That’s a new area, for you boys, isn’t it? You haven’t had much to say about your battery operations.”
“Still early, but we’re optimistic.”
“You’d let me know if something big was coming up?”
“Payton…”
“Yeah, yeah. All right, I’ll be out of your sunshine. Call me if you’re coming into town, get some Braves tickets.”
“Sounds good.”
The line went dead and James Brewster clicked off. He looked over the tops of his wire-rimmed glasses at his son.
“What’s up?”
“Making progress on the Japan contracts. Andy called me—“
“Rosenbaum?”
“Yeah, remember, he’s the operations guy at our Malaysia plant—“
“Yeah, yeah. So what’s going on there?”
He talked about some quality control issues that had come up during an inspection recently, then discussed the progress with the Japanes
e government. Not winning the laser guidance contract with the Japanese and the DoD had been a huge blow.
“I’m hearing rumors,” Jim said, “that the deal might fall apart because of all those deaths in Chicago. Maeda Photonics lost Ken—“
“Sandy Tsutsui is formidable in her own right,” Jim’s father said. “I wouldn’t count her out. It’s just a hiccup.”
“And their big math consultant, Stonewell, he died in that killing, too.”
James Brewster settled back in his chair, hands clasped over his stomach. “Jimmy, that contract’s gone. Let it go. Even if Makatashi Corporation declared bankruptcy tomorrow, we wouldn’t get that contract. Focus on expanding our battery operations. That’s showing a lot of promise. The Japanese should be interested in that, God knows the Chinese are, and you’ve been doing good work in Malaysia and Korea.”
“I think I can get a piece of it. Makatashi’s not going to be able to pull it off with all these problems with Maeda—“
James Brewster shook his head. “Move on, Jimmy.”
“Don’t you want to get back at Makatashi?”
His father shrugged. “Sure, I’d love to, but this contract isn’t going to happen. It’s a lost cause.”
“Ichiro Makatashi is getting old. That company is Ichiro, he’s—“
“Only a year older than me and he seems in fine health. It’s an obsession, Jimmy. Move on. We’re a strong company, you’re doing a great job expanding our presence in Asia, our battery operations are very promising, and if we get our next-gen batteries off the ground, every car company and military in the world will be knocking at our doors.”
He looked ostentatiously at the Piaget watch on his wrist. “I’ve got another call, Jimmy. Go get those Japanese contracts and work out those QC problems in Malaysia.”
So clearly dismissed, Jimmy left, thinking, You don’t know shit, Dad. Just watch me get this contract back.
37
Derek
Back in his hotel, Derek paced around the room for a while, thinking things through. He really wanted to jump on a plane to Austin. That was his approach to things—go confront them. Push. Get in their face.
But Orville and Sandy were right. They needed to build a case. They needed information.
He checked his email. There were other issues being brought up from his work with Homeland Security, previous cases, some questions from federal prosecutors.
He spent some time dealing with that. Then he spent some time reading up on DynaCorp, going back to the hostile takeover attempt of Makatashi, reading a Forbes profile of James Brewster, half a dozen articles about the company in Bloomberg.
Finally, he called Eisenstein back.
“You’re impatient,” she said. “I’ve been warned.”
“My reputation proceeds me. Yeah, sorry. It’s an active case.”
“That’s okay, I’m just about done on your list.”
“Are you willing to talk more generally about DynaCorp?”
“Off the record?”
“What record?”
“Look, Derek, I’m in contracts and procurement. I work with these companies every day. If I go around badmouthing them publicly, I’ll be out of a job.”
“All background.”
“You’ve been in government and the Army long enough to know what these companies are all about.”
“Money.”
“Exactly. And that’s not really cynical. They’re publicly traded companies, they owe it to their shareholders to be profitable.”
“You ever see action?” Derek asked her.
“Panama and Iraq. El Salvador.”
“Me, too. And some other places.”
“So the problem sometimes is the companies want to make money from the deep trough of the government and there’s a little less concern about the lives of the people who actually have to use this shit in the field.”
Derek, who had more than his fair share of equipment that was unreliable under stress, understood exactly what she was talking about. And that’s what he told her.
“Well,” she said, “nothing specific, more of an attitude. They’re a little worse than the others, at least most of them. They’re a little more, mmmm, rough and tumble, less refined. It’s hard to put your finger on it, but there’s a little bit of a we’ll-do-anything-to-get-the-contract vibe that I find disturbing.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“A couple. They’re on the list.”
“James Brewster?”
“The head of the company? Well, I’ve met him a couple times. No, I think, for the most part, he’s legitimate. Wants to run a great company, but understands he’s the underachieving stepchild. As a result, they don’t get a lot of work in the U.S., but they do pretty well in other countries that can’t afford the best.”
“Prohibited countries? Countries the U.S. doesn’t want them selling military tech to?”
“If I knew that I’d have made official challenges. There are rumors, but there are rumors about all of these companies selling to ISIS or al-Qaeda or whoever. And probably a lot of them do through subsidiaries and cutouts. Not my area. I’m involved in evaluating proposals and liaising with companies during implementation and procurement. A cog in the military-industrial complex.”
“Okay, okay. I got it. So they’re legitimate, albeit willing to cut corners.”
“They’re probably all willing to cut corners. If you were in favor of them, you’d call them ‘scrappy.’”
“But…”
“But there are some people in the company that I’ve dealt with that concern me more than others.”
“And they’re on the list.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, send it to me when you’re ready.”
“In the next hour. But I have a question for you. Why did you mention James Brewster?”
He told her about the apparent grudge between James Brewster and Ichiro Makatashi, the hostile takeover attempt, the SEC investigation, the lost billions.
“I wasn’t in this department at that time. But interesting.”
“But you think James Brewster’s above dirty tricks, hiring an assassin.”
“I don’t get that vibe. But his son? Jimmy Brewster? James Brewster, Jr. He’s on my list.”
38
Sandy
Captain Bains was doing his intimidation-ignoring thing. His desk was covered with papers and he would stare at his computer screen, then down to sheets of paper, then back to his computer screen. He was intentionally ignoring me sitting in front of him, where he had told me to “Sit,” like a dog without even looking up at me.
I could play that game, too, though, and spent it mostly on my phone, texting my union rep, assuring her that so far I hadn’t been spoken to, but it would probably happen soon.
Captain Bains jabbed a finger down on the keyboard of his computer hard enough to make me think he’d be ordering a new one after I left. “What the hell is the matter with you, Sandy? PTSD? Disregard for the law? Problems with authority? You know better than to just ignore one of your fellow homicide detectives. Is it Nathan? I know you’re under—“
“Don’t bring him into this,” I said, voice quiet.
“Then what is it? Should I have put you on leave? I know I should have. But you were the logical one to help this Stillwater out.”
He stopped talking for a moment. I wondered if he’d planned this little speech. I wondered how much of his righteous indignation was actually staged, a little theater for my benefit.
“I’m waiting for an answer.”
“We’re very close—“
“I don’t care how close you are to closing this investigation. We have rules of conduct in the CPD. We have regulations. There are reasons, damned good reasons—“
“Why don’t you stop interrupting me and let me finish,” I snapped.
C
aptain Bains’ eyes grew large and round, then his face grew red. The muscles in his considerable jaw clenched.
“I can have you fired, Lieutenant. I can have you suspended. Yes, you’re a superstar, you have a fantastic close rate, and you’re adept at dealing with mass murderers and serial killers—God knows you’ve encountered enough of them—but you’re still a goddamned cop under my goddamned command and you will goddamned follow the goddamned chain of command. Do you understand me?”
“Yes sir.”
“When you’re done filling me in on the investigation, you will make an appointment with Chief O’Keefe and Lieutenant Gardner and help them with the investigation. Do you understand me?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good.”
39
Cobra
After Stillwater and Beach left, Ichiro Makatashi sat down in a chair and gestured to Anne Sakura. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Tea is fine.”
He nodded and went about preparing tea. “Your assessment?”
“I think we’re all on the same page.”
“And what do you think of Agent Stillwater?”
“Smart. Not really an investigator. At least not in the build-a-legal-case sense.”
“Perhaps because of his military background. You have much in common with him.” He walked over with the tea and cups, and proceeded with the elaborate, though informal, chakai, tea ritual. Although Japanese, Anne didn’t have a lot of patience for this type of Japanese culture—perhaps it was the French part of her. But she knew it was also a way for Mr. Makatashi to gather his thoughts.
“Do I?”
“Oh yes, I think so. You tend to cut through the clutter and get to the point. I don’t believe either of you has complete regard for chain of command and the rule of law.”
She didn’t have a response to that, not one that she thought was relevant. After a moment, as he poured the tea, she said, “And James Brewster?”
