“Let’s roll. We’re crashing the interrogation.” He rolled around the door frame and into the hallway heading straight to the elevator. It would be a five-minute walk to the FBI offices. The governor ought to be able to get them past security and into the interrogation room area where they needed to be.
When they arrived at the FBI’s Boston office in Government Center, Dane was in the lead followed by Acer, David Young, and Governor Peter John Douglas. They proceeded past the front desk and up to the SAC’s office without being stopped or questioned once Peter showed his ID—not that he needed to. He was well known as the governor. And well respected. They were on their way to invade the interrogation. Dane only needed the one final piece of information for his case to fall into place against Peck. He stopped Acer in the hallway outside a bank of elevators and spoke for his ears only.
“I need you to do me a favor. Do you mind going back to the office to do some OTR computer forensic work for me?”
“OTR?”
“Off the record.”
An evil grin spread on Acer’s face. Dane told him in a few clipped words what he had in mind and clapped him on the back to send him on his way.
By the time they made their way past security and staff assistants into the interrogation observation room, the interrogation was on again. Dane and Peter took the lead and entered the room ahead of the SAC’s assistant with David right behind them. They stopped inside the door and behind a table filled with chairs and monitors, the scene he’d been watching before, only without Shana and Peck. Dane flicked a quick glance to the monitors to see that Shana and Peck had entered the interrogation room with Sebastian Whitaker.
“What are you doing here?” The SAC frowned at them each in turn until his unfriendly face rested on his assistant.
“Don’t blame Rex,” Peter said, referring to the staff assistant. “I convinced him we had important information and that you’d want us to get it to you for questioning as soon as possible.”
The SAC looked pointedly at Dane, but considered his words before he spoke. Cap moved over to stand with Dane. Dane watched the monitor. Shana and Peck were about to sit down to interview Sebastian.
“This is still our show. Our collar. Our press conference,” the SAC said.
“You can have it. As long as justice is done. That’s all we care about.” Peter spread his arms to include Dane, David and Cap.
“Pull up some chairs. They’re just about ready to start.” The SAC pointed Dane to a chair furthest from the monitors. Dane stood near the door, folded his arms and watched the monitor. He didn’t sit and he said nothing.
The SAC said, “Let’s hear what your new evidence is—over here.” The SAC was leading Peter toward an inner office, but Peter didn’t follow. Dane divided his attention between the screen and the governor. He could barely hear the interrogation, but they were still asking the light questions.
Peter said, “This isn’t secret evidence. We have information about the source of the money that was deposited into Wally White’s bank account that he claims was a payment for a hit he never agreed to.”
The SAC raised his brows. Then turned to one of his men in the room and said, “Don’t we have that information?”
“Not yet—working on it. We just got a subpoena—”
“Never mind.” The SAC tuned back to Peter. Dane didn’t mind a little drama and appreciated the governor playing it out, but Dane needed to pay attention to Shana and Peck. He needed to watch for any sign that Peck was undermining her questioning or skewing the direction.
Peter said, “There were three names on the account. Sebastian Whitaker, Fiona Whitaker and the third name was John Smith.”
“John—” The SAC started to question the name. Dane jumped in.
“A very unimaginative alias. I suggest we focus the questioning of Fiona Whitaker on the identity of John Smith.”
“Pull Special Agent Peck and Detective George from Sebastian Whitaker’s interrogation,” the SAC said. “Send them in to talk to Mrs. Whitaker—give them the update on the Swiss bank account.”
With his assistant dispatched, he turned to Dane, daring him to say another word. Dane would have said many words—if they were alone in a back alley. The SAC sent his assistant, not a trained Special Agent, to share information without direction or specification of what they were looking for. Normally this would be okay since any trained FBI man worth his salt would know what to do with the information, but in this case, absent a specific instruction, he might have given Peck enough rope to hang himself. Or Peck might have enough room to wiggle his way out of this. Either way, Dane was most worried about Peck getting Shana into trouble, somehow setting her up.
This last thought was what troubled Dane enough to prod him into action. He hadn’t liked her being in the room with Peck all along, never mind that it defied all rationality to think that Peck would pull anything or do anything to harm her while they were being watched. But he might figure a way to throw her under the bus and make it look like she was undermining the FBI’s case.
“I’m surprised you’re allowing Peck to be in the same room with Detective George,” Dane said to the SAC.
Peter gave him a sharp look and David remained implacable in his typical British way. Cap stood next to him and he felt his friend tense up.
The SAC looked at him without speaking. Dane plundered on.
“After the knock-down drag-out fight they had. Captain Lynch had to break it up and bring Detective George to safety.”
The SAC folded his arms and continued his silence, but he’d started simmering.
Dane continued. “There hasn’t been time yet, but I’m certain charges will be filed—by Ms. George against Special Agent Peck—”
“You are so far out of line, Mr. Blaise, that I cannot even take you seriously. There is no way in hell that Ms. George could get away with filing charges—”
Dane nudged Cap then.
“I’m afraid that’s not true—I was a witness—”
“Bullshit. Peck has a broken nose and it wasn’t from tripping into a door like he tried to lie about. He’s covering up for your precious Ms. George—”
“That’s enough,” Peter said. “Why don’t we have Special Agent Peck and Ms. George join us right now to set the record straight?”
Shana leaned across the table toward Fiona Whitaker and tried not to sound as frustrated as she felt. If the woman whined that she was only trying to help her husband one more time, Shana would ask to take a break.
The distinct sound of a commotion filtered into the room from the hallway.
“Let’s stop for a break,” she said and stood. Peck stood also and put an arm at her back. She pulled away. Fiona gave her a look like murder.
Shana walked from the room with the solid quick click of her ridiculous heels sounding on the tile floor. Peck was right behind her. She did not slam the door in his face. She saw the SAC’s assistant down the hall waving them back to the observation room.
“What are you in such a hurry for?” Peck said. She felt his hot breath. “The stress too much for you? I’m not complaining and I have a serious injury to contend with. So far I haven’t pressed charges, but—”
Shana stopped short in the hall and spun around. “You’re damn right you’re not pressing charges against me.” She kept her voice low, but the rage came through with all the righteous indignation she could muster while on her opponent’s home turf. She realized the cagey agent had kept her close by like any self-respecting schemer kept his enemies close.
“Because you know damn well whose charge would pan out in the end.” Giving full force to her anger felt good, but it unsettled her. She pivoted before he responded, before he touched her, and marched to the end of the hall where the assistant had waved them into the observation room.
The uptick in her already agitated pulse rate might have been due to finding Dane in the room, but the swirl of confusing emotions wouldn’t settle enough for Shana to figure out i
f it was surprise, excitement, fear or profound relief that contributed most. The fleeting thought that it could be her pure animal instinctive response to him made her scowl.
She put her scowl to good use, aiming it at all as she swept her gaze across the room which had suddenly got crowded and cloudy with a testosterone-infused atmosphere. The men stood across an invisible divide in their corners. The FBI SAC, Owen Evans, his assistant and two agents stood on one side and the governor on the other. Strangely, Dane was close to the middle and he zeroed in on her.
She was aware of Peck standing behind her, too close. Dane did not look at Peck. Instead he held her eyes alone with that remarkable intensity he had.
“Tell us what happened last night.” Dane’s voice boomed with boldness rather than volume. The abruptness of the question asked in front of this audience made her pause, but only for a beat.
“I had dinner with Special Agent Peck and we—”
“We had a wonderful time—traded information.” Peck interrupted.
“Looks more like you traded punches,” Dane said. The quietness of his voice, like a low growl, was not lost on Shana. She jumped back into her explanation.
“We did have a tussle over Peck’s phone—”
“What the hell is this about, Blaise? You looking for trouble? I didn’t make an arrest or press charges. I was willing to let bygones—”
“What the hell are you saying, Peck?” Evans asked.
Peck clammed up then. Evans looked at her, but Shana had no idea where Dane wanted to go with this. She closed her mouth and looked at Dane. Everyone turned in Dane’s direction.
“I can see we have a truce. I will assume that means full cooperation.” Dane turned to Evans. “Shana should talk to Fiona without Peck. She has a rapport. He does not.”
Peck snorted. “I’m just fine with Fiona. Don’t you worry.”
Dane narrowed his eyes at Peck and Shana wondered what was running through his head. He had a plan and she needed to figure it out. There was a reason he wanted to send her in with Fiona without Peck.
“We have additional intelligence. It would be more effective with Shana asking the questions to explore—”
“What damn bullshit additional intelligence? We already heard about the bank account,” Peck said.
Shana heard a tiny vibration of fear in the man’s voice, from deep down in his throat where he couldn’t control it. It wasn’t much, but it was there. Dane smiled at her. He’d heard it too. She knew it.
“We found out that Sebastian had a visitor the week before he was released. His infamous cellblock mate’s nephew. It’s been confirmed. See what she knows about it.”
She watched Peck’s reaction. The tension in the man’s face disappeared like he was a photoshopped picture. Shana knew Dane had never believed that story about Whitaker’s prisonmate setting up the sniper. He was setting up Peck. Somehow.
The SAC gave Dane a cold stare then nodded, affirming the suggestion that Shana continue the interrogation without Peck.
“You continue the interrogation, darlin’,” Dane said. “We’ll be here watching from close up instead of across the street. All together. These gentlemen had already obliged us the privilege of watching and it doesn’t seem like much to quibble over where we do our watching.” He stopped and eyed both sides, lingering on Evans and continuing to avoid Peck, she noted.
Evans gave a nod and said to her, “Carry on.”
She went back into the interrogation room, feeling hot and aggravated. But she also felt a swirl of warmth in her chest and more confident knowing that her team was in the next room, knowing that Dane was there and that he had her back. Still.
She took a deep breath and opened the door and went back to her seat. Without Peck. Her tension was gone. She no longer cared that she was wearing a Saturday-night dress and spike heels.
“What was that all about?” Mrs. Whitaker asked.
“Men.”
Mrs. Whitaker nodded and Shana resumed the interrogation.
“Listen, Fiona. I know you’ve been a loyal, faithful wife and that you never stole a thing. But you know all about your husband’s exploits—”
“No, I—”
“You do now. I want you to tell me everything you know. From the beginning.”
Fiona pouted. Shana realized the woman was fully made up and primped like she was going to her prom and Shana watched the woman calculate what to do. Finally, after Shana sat with her hands folded for almost a full minute, Fiona shrugged. Then she talked.
“When Sebastian was getting out, he wanted all the money and planned to get it, but was worried about Harry the Hacker because he came back looking for more money—he had only gone to jail a short time because he’d cooperated with the prosecution. Sebastian was also worried about Acer knowing about the money. He asked some guy he met in jail for help. I don’t remember his name.”
“Why didn’t your husband come home?” Shana asked.
“Because he was afraid of my father. Dear Dad had warned him off—didn’t want him moving back in like nothing ever happened. So he stayed away and needed to start accessing some of his money. I could only sneak so much of Dad’s money to him. I’ve had to rely on my father’s largesse all these years. It was humiliating.”
“So you’re saying that your husband arranged to have Harold Small and Mr. Acerman killed by the sniper, Wallace White?”
“Sure. I don’t know the details of course.”
“Why are you telling me all this now? Why are you giving up your husband?”
“Because I’m certainly not taking the fall for any murder. I don’t deserve to get into trouble for any of this. The worst thing I did is keep my mouth shut about the money. Nothing violent.”
“He killed the hacker. And you knew it.”
Fiona shut her mouth. Shana tried prying out of her what she knew about Harry’s murder but Fiona said nothing. The woman began to cry.
“What about the Swiss bank account, Fiona?”
The woman’s head shot up before she realized she ought to play it cool.
“What Swiss bank account?”
“The one with your name on it.”
“My name?”
Shana knew the woman wanted to correct her and say there were two other names on it too, but Fiona was worried about admitting to knowing too much.
Dane still stood in the doorway and he knew he shouldn’t say anything, but the tension in the observation room spiked with the talk about the missing money.
“Special Agent Peck,” Dane said mildly, “How do you suppose the Whitakers managed to hide that money away without you knowing about it back when you made the arrest and had Sebastian thrown in jail for embezzlement?”
“I knew nothing about any Swiss bank account,” Peck said. He sounded reasonable and unoffended. “We looked for the money back in the day, but Harry the Hacker hid it real good and as far as I know, that’s why he got himself killed—you heard Fiona—Sebastian had him killed right after he got access to his money because he didn’t want to share with the guy that had sent him to jail.”
“I’m sure what you’re saying is true, Peck,” Evans said. “But you know there’ll need to be an investigation once we button up this case against the Whitakers.”
Dane was listening to them talking so he almost missed the next part of the interrogation.
Shana was consoling Mrs. Whitaker and got her to quiet down enough to ask one more question.
“Any idea who might have tried to run me down outside the beauty salon that day I came to talk to you?”
Fiona wasn’t good enough to hide her surprise, but Dane believed she truly knew nothing about that anyway. Apparently, Peck hadn’t coached her on what to say to this question because she sat mute.
“What’s this about?” The SAC asked Peck. Peck shrugged and Evans turned to Peter and David and Cap and then finally to Dane for an explanation.
It wasn’t time for Dane to talk yet, so he shrugged his should
ers.
While everyone turned back to the monitors to continue watching the interrogation, Dane slipped into the hall with a wave of his hand at Peter. He had called the man at the local police station where the Harold Small case had been handled and asked them about their system. And their backup drives. They provided a link to their backups and sent the information to Acer’s iPad.
He needed to find out what Acer had found—this would be a good time. Much longer and Peck might be able to slip it under the rug with everything else about this case.
Dane walked a few steps away from the room and punched in Acer’s number.
“What do you have for me?”
“You’re lucky I got anything. This guy’s good—whoever erased the files was almost thorough. But I found the ballistics tests on the bullet that killed Harry Small. It did not match the one in my shooting—Cap had sent them the report on the bullet I confiscated. The Harry Small bullet was shot from an HS Precision Series 2000 Sniper Rifle.”
“A standard FBI-issued rifle,” Dane said. “Gotta go—you get back here ASAP.”
Dane hurried back into the room and zeroed in on Peter. This would be a good time to stand next to the governor—an implied use of his authority.
When there was a pause in the interrogation room on the monitor, Dane spoke up.
“I have new information. I would like Peck, Captain Lynch and me to be brought into the interrogation room with Fiona, Sebastian, and Wallace White. It’s strategically important for us all to be in the room at once for further interrogation.”
“What’s this new information?” Peck asked before the SAC had a chance.
Dane looked at him and said nothing. Peter looked cool, as if he knew what it was all about. Cap looked intensely concerned, but that was a perfect role for him.
David had adopted his bored Brit look and said to him under his breath, “Are you setting up a Ms. Marple scene where you assemble all the suspects and accuse someone in the room of murder while you then unfold the story for us all?”
Dane twitched the corner of his mouth. While Evans and Peck discussed the matter, he said in a whisper, “It’s the British in you that figured me out.”
Beachcomber Investigations Page 16
