by Fiona Quinn
Julio nodded. “I thought that if I testified against the organization, that the people who could hurt me would be imprisoned. I thought that the American government would help me with a new identity. Maria and I could go live somewhere obscure, Indonesia or New Zealand. We have plenty of money to live a simple life somewhere. We are only 35. We still have time to start a family.” Julio’s voice trailed off; his unfocused gaze slid to the right. After a few moments, he roused himself. “Little did I know that the fucking AG, Jim Noble is in bed with Sylanos. He arrested me on the spot. I had no contingency plan for this. I was completely surprised. I thought he was going to take me out right there and then, or order CQ2 to do it.”
“You thought the Noble would pull in a gang chip?” Dalton asked.
“Absolutely. He’s used them before. CQ2 is all over the prisons. Even in solitary, even in Max they can get to me. All Noble needs to do is raise an eyebrow, and I’m gone.”
“Then there’s a reason you’re not gone,” Dalton said. “There’s a reason why you haven’t opened your mouth from the time you were arrested until today.”
“I documented everything to do with Sylanos from the beginning of my tenure with him. I updated my computer files daily. The data contains everyone’s name, how they fit in, when they did something, how they did something; I had it all. A decade’s worth of data.”
“They trusted you with this information?” Dalton asked.
“They trusted me with their computers. I wrote the software for the organization. It all backed up into my Sacramento files and floated in cyber space. I have everything. . .” Julio was thoughtful. “I must have something that I don’t know about. Something that implicates Jim Noble himself.”
“Or someone he’s protecting,” Axel said.
“Yes,” Julio nodded his agreement.
“You told Noble you had documentation of Sylanos’ organization.”
“Yes. They needed to know it was more than my memory – more than my word against theirs. After all in their eyes, I’m merely an undocumented worker.”
“You must have told Noble that the computer was programmed to release the information,” Axel mused. “That you had no control. It was automatic. That way they couldn’t torture you for the information.”
“Right. If I gave them the wrong information under duress, they’d be exposed. I said if anything happened to Maria, that too, would create an automatic release of information. She may think of me as a paycheck, but I really do love her. I guess sometimes you take what you can get,” he said wearily.
“This makes no sense,” Dalton said. “If the AG has you on ice while they try to figure out how to protect themselves from you, why didn’t they figure out the code? Arrest Maria? Arrest Brody? They could do what we’re doing.”
“Maybe they tried. Maybe you’re better than they are. I thought I was very clever about my system. There are other players, too. There’s more to this.”
“Who? What?” asked Dalton
“That I can’t tell you. I collected the data; I didn’t read the data. I only know about the software pirating. If I had read the data and understood the connections, I would never have gone to the AG now would I?”
“You knew he was connected with CQ2?”
“Yes. We used Blackhearts for some projects, mostly weapons mules up 95. The two gangs have overlapping territory that causes a lot of collateral damage. I overheard some phone conversations that maybe I shouldn’t have heard. In one of them, Sylanos said that if CQ2 stopped another shipment, he was going to put Noble’s head on the chopping block. That’s why I thought he and Sylanos were competitors and going to Noble would be the best way out.”
“Let’s go back. I still want to know why you haven’t said a word to anyone in almost a year,” Dalton said.
“Noble told me he had decided we should negotiate.”
“There are no tapes of you talking to the AG, only the Fed.”
“No, these were private conversations,” Julio said.
“Go on.” Axel rested his elbows on his knees, mirroring Julio’s body stance, giving Julio the psychological sense that this was intimate, and Axel was conspiring with him. Julio nodded agreement. Good. He was reading this the way Axel wanted him to.
“He said that someone had called the newspapers and news outlets reporting that I was a terrorist. the unknown caller said my plot had come close to taking out key players in the government, but the Feds were trying to keep this under wraps ahead of the election cycle. A media circus surrounded me.”
“Could Maria have done that to protect you?” Dalton asked.
“Maria’s not that smart. This was someone very clever. The more I thought about this, the more I saw the genius of it. Not only did the media save me in the moment, it’s ongoing. I get five, ten, fifteen requests every day from authors who want to write my story. People are watching me. People with skills and resources. People with possibly big paychecks on the line. If I were to suddenly disappear, there would be lots of questions.”
“Ah. That better explains your good health. You’ve got media working in your favor, but you’re still playing your code card?”
“If the writers are asking questions after I disappear, it doesn’t do me a whole lot of good, now does it? I have to stay here and stay quiet. The deal is that I keep my head down, and as soon as things have cooled off a little, I’d be free and have my new identification papers. Noble was afraid that if someone got the information out, from a reporter for example, that I would leak some of my data. Noble said that I should shut my mouth —literally not open my mouth once, from that moment on. If I said anything, I would be drawing the whole thing out longer than anyone wanted.”
“How could they release you if you’ve been to trial and convicted?”
“I signed papers as to my guilt. There was only a sentencing trial. As I said, they have players in all the right places. Evidence and a good cover story could show up any day.”
“You believe that?”
“It’s the fantasy I’m telling myself until I die. Now that this interrogation has taken place, you have Brody, and you figured out the codes, it should be any time now.”
Twenty-Two
“That was damned depressing.” I rubbed my lower back and leaned into the chair for support.
“There were a lot of holes in that story,” Randy said.
“It was the Swiss cheese of all stories.” Blaze reached out to turn off the display that had gone to static.
“I don’t think he had any more to give us. I think he dumped it all on the table, hoping for a miracle,” I said.
“He seemed surprised we didn’t care about his work with Sylanos.” Deep turned to check a monitor that lit up. A turkey buzzard flew low to the ground across the screen. Deep pushed a button to signal a false alarm. “Darned raptors. I think there’s something dead in the woods. I need to find it and move it out of the controlled zone.”
“I wish I could interview Brody before we talk to Maria,” I said.
Randy flicked his pencil in the air in a high rotating arch; it landed neatly in his hand. He used it as a pointer to waggle at me. “Axel sees Maria in the morning. We’ll have to run the script you already wrote.”
I nodded. “The AG’s gonna have a heads-up we chatted with Julio. He’ll have the tapes and know everything we do.”
“Nope. Axel scrambled everything not on his frequency; all they’ll get is static,” Blaze said with a grin.
“But it’s six hours of static. You think that bodes well for the guy?” I asked.
“Honestly, it’s his past actions that might save him here. You saw the first ten interrogations. He sat on the chair for hours on end without a peep. Not even a bathroom break. Why would number eleven be any different? In the end, we have little to no control over this situation. We don’t know if the AG is the top of the pyramid, wringing every drop of power from his tenure,” Deep said.
“Or if Julio was out-and-out lying, or something in between
. When is Noble up for election?” Blaze leaned over Deep’s chair and launched a search engine.
“I don’t think Julio was lying,” I said, looking over Deep’s shoulder. “He was confused. He drew some faulty conclusions. Hmmn, no, I think he was being as honest as he could be.”
Blaze pointed at the screen. “Noble’s running for the US House of Representatives in the November election.”
“With CQ2 in his pocket? How is it no one’s picked up on that?” Deep asked.
“This might be one of Julio’s false assumptions. He came to his conclusion based on phone conversations he overheard. So many questions. . .” I stretched and rubbed my back. It was well past my bedtime – and well past my meds time. I was trying to ease off the pain pills. I’d weaned myself down to only a couple of nighttime Tylenols, but at that moment, I’d have been very appreciative of some stronger relief. Six hours in a metal chair staring at a monitor was five hours too long when you weren’t getting your questions answered clearly.
“Randy, do you know who the CPA is in Sacramento?” I asked.
“I have copies of their bank transactions,” he said.
“Do you feel like a trip to the West Coast?” I reached for my walker. “I think we need their computer to go to our forensics lab. It might hold the key to the universe. My universe, at any rate.”
Randy pulled out his iPhone and checked the screen. “I can go Tuesday night. Is that soon enough?”
***
I was in the water, walk-jogging in the pool current while Laura leaned over the side, dangling her hand in the water and saying encouraging things. “You can do it!” “What an improvement!” “Look at you go!” I felt like a kid at a Little League game cheered along as I ran to the next base.
The next base today was weightlifting. I’d taken a special trip to the imaging center on Friday. I was just shy of the requisite healing time before I lifted anything over my head, but the doctor gave me permission to proceed.
I sat in a chair and lifted two-pound weights, both arms moving up at the same time, and sweated from the exertion. This was ridiculous. Even in prison, I worked out harder than this.
I grunted my agitation.
“Don’t get discouraged, Annie. You’re moving ahead at a good pace. You have to build back your stamina and strength. It’s a time game.”
“I’m frustrated,” I snapped as my arms wavered like overcooked spaghetti noodles over my head, struggling to hold up mini dumbbells.
“Yeah? Well, let’s look at the positives. Today, you’re lifting. A few more days, and the doctor says you’ll be safe enough to move around without the walker, then we can go outside and work on your balance. It’s a beautiful property.”
I gave Laura a half-smile. My mind wasn’t really on my therapy. I was thinking about Maria. Axel and Dalton should be with her right now. Since they didn’t have a two-way communicator, it didn’t matter whether I watched in real time, or waited and watched the feed later. I had already given up a half-day’s work over Julio for no particular reason beyond impatience. Strength had to be my priority. I needed to be ready if Omega found me.
***
My monitor showed Maria’s swollen face. Red stippled around her eyes from a crying jag that had gone on almost an hour, according to the time stamp at the bottom of the screen. I scrolled through her sob session. It was a pitiful scene, but I couldn’t work up a sense of compassion. To be truthful, I was happy she was bathing in her pain. I wanted her to suffer. A tiny metallic voice tapped on the edge of my consciousness, reminding me that Maria had very likely saved my life by kidnapping me before Omega goons grabbed me. I tried to ignore that voice and revel in my satisfaction.
Axel, on the other hand, had had enough. “Are you done?” He reached up and adjusted his glasses, making the image jiggle.
Maria shifted around in the hard metal chair, folded her arms tightly over her bosom, and glared across the table at the men.
“We’ve been chatting with Julio. He’s had some interesting things to say.”
Maria arched her eyebrow at him. She obviously thought he was trying to trick her.
“Julio is having some problems in the prison. Looks like CQ2 targeted him. Rumor is, he won’t make it to testify at your trial,” Axel said.
”Oh, he’ll make it to my trial, all right.” Venom dripped from her words.
“You sound very confident,” Axel said.
“I am. He’s not going to die. The politicos won’t let that happen.”
“Who do you mean when you say ‘the politicos’?” Axel asked. That tone. I needed to learn how to modulate my voice into that tone. It was genius.
Maria said nothing. She pursed her lips together and twisted them from side to side, a you’ll-get-nothing-out-of-me response.
“Are you referring to Sylanos and his friends?” Axel asked.
Still nothing. I guess she thought since the sympathy card hadn’t worked, maybe she’d try stonewalling.
Axel opened his laptop and played a small section of yesterday’s film — where Julio explained that Maria was trying to get him out of prison to access his money. He didn’t believe she cared anything about him at all.
“He’s not in your corner, Maria. You’re on your own,” Axel’s soothing voice made him the support she could lean on. Encouraged her to lean on. “Your husband won’t stand with you. Sylanos’ organization won’t stand with you. You are an illegal who took an American citizen captive, hid her in a foreign prison, and tried to negotiate a trade for an affirmed terrorist.”
“Julio is not a terrorist!”
“Maria.” Patience. Kindness. Like petting a kitten. “Julio signed court papers admitting to his guilt. He’s serving a life sentence in maximum security. You tried to negotiate the release of an affirmed terrorist who tried to harm the American government by using a young American girl as your pawn. In trying to escape and get back home, this young girl died. What do you think is going to happen to you?”
All of the bluster rushed from Maria’s lungs. She looked like a wounded child. Vulnerable. Axel had kicked a goal shot.
He tilted his head sympathetically to the side. “Maria, you can turn state’s evidence, like your friend Beth Sylanos. You don’t have to rot in prison, waiting on death row for your execution.”
Maria moved her hands to her lap. She turned inward, eyes scanning the floor in front of her, then her lips tightened down again, curling inward. Just like Julio, she’d decided not to cooperate.
“Hector’s dead,” Axel said it like he was saying, “We need milk.” A normal, everyday kind of statement.
Maria leaned forward and puked. Axel’s wire-cam focused on the puddle of half-digested food, corn and some beef chunks. Dalton walked over to the door and rapped at the window to get the guard’s attention. After sticking his head out the door for a brief conversation, Dalton sat back down. “He’s getting a mop.”
“How did Hector die?” Maria wiped a sleeve across her mouth.
“Gang hit within twenty-four hours of his arrest,” Axel said.
Dalton reached over, poured a cup of water, and held it out to Maria. She shook her head, so Dalton took a sip and put it back on the metal table. How they were sitting there with undisturbed faces and the smell from the puddle of puke at their feet was beyond me. My stomach rolled and bucked at the image alone.
We waited. For the mop? For her to digest the information? I didn’t know. It was a long wait. Fifteen minutes went by, then twenty. A guard came in and swiped a mop through the pool of puke, sprayed some disinfectant, then wheeled the bucket back out, shutting the door behind him. I’m sure the room was much more pleasant now. Still there was silence.
It was around the forty-minute mark when Maria met Axel’s eyes again. She had made her decision. “Julio has been hiding our money. We have lots of money. Julio sent some to his family; he sent most to his bank account. We had little to live on. It was a better life than I lived in Honduras, but I wanted to buy pr
etty clothes, have my own maid to clean the toilets. I wanted to eat restaurant food. I don’t see why I couldn’t have had a little money to do that,” she complained. “But no, Julio has to hide it away. He wouldn’t tell me where. I said to him, ‘What if you die? Then the money is gone, and I’ll be a widow living on the streets.’ He should tell me where he hid the money.”
“Julio said he was ready to leave the organization – to take you and the money and go live in Indonesia. Was he worried that Sylanos wouldn’t let him leave?” Axel asked.
“It didn’t matter what Sylanos wanted. He had to release Julio,” Maria said defiantly.
“Julio might be dangerous to let walk around, knowing everything he knows about Sylanos and the operations,” Axel said.
“Very dangerous. That’s why Julio documented everything over the years. That was his safety net.”
“Why do you think that Julio signed the documents that said he was planning a terrorist attack?” Axel asked.
“He’s doing what he was told to do. Julio went to jail because he told the wrong guy the wrong thing. Once Julio was part of the system, they had a hard time making it go away because it got media attention. Someone planted the story that Julio was a terrorist. Too many eyes involved. They told Julio he had to sit in jail, and that when things cooled off, they would get him out.” Maria stared at the wet spot on the floor.
Axel waited for her to shift her gaze back to him. “And when you say ‘they’ you’re talking about…?”
“I’m not sure.” Maria hunched her shoulders. “The politicos.”
Axel had moved to the corner of the room while the mop guy did his thing, but now he came back over to perch on the table in front of Maria. “We know about the codes that Julio gave you each week. We know that Brody Covington took your place after you sent the ransom note. We know how to calculate next week’s code.”
Maria looked silently at Axel, then slowly nodded her head.
“How do we find Brody?” Axel asked.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
