Sideswiped: Book One in the Matt Blake legal thriller series

by Russell Moran

  “Sophie, this is room 17. Ours is room 19.”

  “Why do they have to make everything so complicated?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “What was that, honey?” said Diana.

  “Just somebody helping me stay awake.”

  “My turn, captain. Get some sleep.”

  We exchanged places. I hit the bed and was asleep in moments.

  At 6 a.m. the secure phone rang. Dee put it on speaker.

  “It’s Rick Bellamy, folks. We’ve been monitoring the road closing near Chicago, and it looks like traffic will start moving again. I sent three agents to the Ramada to wait for the guy who was coming to get you, the guy who killed Agent Jordan. He’s in custody. I’ve been in touch with the Chicago Chief of Police, or rather the Director of the FBI has. They’re sending an escort of six cops to take you back to your car. You’ll transfer to an FBI vehicle in Chicago. The agent will take you to your temporary safe location. Don’t go anywhere near either of your apartments.”

  “Rick, this is Diana. I need to call the university to tell them I can’t make my classes today.”

  “I’ll call and make excuses for you, Diana. Please call me when you get to your location. Two armed FBI agents will be at your door.”

  We showered, put on fresh clothes, and prepared for day two of our journey into terror.

  Chapter 40

  Feeling like fugitives, we arrived at our temporary location on upper Michigan Avenue. As Rick promised, two FBI agents greeted us at the door and showed us in.

  It wasn’t a bad place. Two bedrooms, two full baths, and even a nice view of the lake from the living room. I called Rick Bellamy in New York.

  “It’s great to hear from you, Matt. Hey, I won’t kid you. We were worried as hell about you two last night. As I’m sure it’s obvious to you, Diana is a target. Somebody wants her dead, and was willing to shoot up a restaurant to make it happen. I wish I could give you better details, but for now just stay where you are. You’ll be safe. The landline telephone in the apartment is secure, so you can call your families. Please don’t go into specifics on what we know is happening.”

  Diana and I made our calls, first to my parents, then to hers. We also called Bennie, who gave us a horrifying description of the scene at the restaurant. Ben told us that Woody’s condition had been upgraded to fair, but he still couldn’t receive visitors. He also said that Bill Randolph would pull through, although he may have some long-term paralysis in his left arm.

  We’d been at the apartment for three hours when the phone rang. Diana put it on speaker.

  “Hi guys, it’s Rick. We need to meet, but I don’t want you two out in the open. I’ll come to Chicago. I’ll have someone with me who I want you to meet. I called Bennie and he’ll be there too. We’ll arrive at 9 a.m. tomorrow.”

  ***

  “I’m trying to be positive, honey,” Dee said. “If this happened a while back, I’d be a fat slob, wasted on booze, heroin, and pizza. And you’d be in a corner, nodding off your latest hit. Being clean and sober is getting us through this shit.”

  “Meanwhile, Dee, we’re stuck here. We can exercise, play cards, watch TV, and, well...”

  “Well?”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “Well, what?”

  “Well, why not?” I said, as I unbuttoned her blouse.

  We made love in our secret undisclosed location.

  Chapter 41

  At a small bungalow in Hammond, Indiana, two men discussed strategy.

  “Greetings, Ali, may peace be upon you,” said Muhammad Zunir to Ali Bukar. “Our mission has become more difficult. The brothers who carried out the assignment at the restaurant last night are no longer in contact. Two are dead, and the police have the third in custody. I hope the police realize that our brother will never give them any information. Even if he did, it would be of no matter. Brother Muzir had no idea what the overall mission was about, only that he was to open fire. Our target, the infidel bitch named Diana Spellman, wasn’t there. We don’t believe she was tipped off. We have learned that she and her playmate boyfriend were stuck in that big traffic tie-up on I-80. The plan was perfectly designed by our infidel insider, Mike Delancy, who’s with the Secret Service. Delancy may not share our faith, but he shares our wealth. He is being well compensated for his assistance.”

  “Why are we targeting Diana Spellman, Muhammad? Maybe it isn’t for me to ask, I’m just curious why we’re using so many resources to get to her.”

  “Like her late husband, Diana Spellman is a writer as well as a professor. She writes on a large array of topics. She had an article published in the Washington Post about the importance of redundant computer backup systems. As you know we took her husband’s computer after we killed him in the car crash. We thought we did everything we had to do, but her article stressed the need for people to have local backups and not to rely on online backup services. We believe she has all of the information that James Spellman had. But the most important thing, according to our sources, is that she has deep knowledge of her husband’s writing. We’ve been told that she acted as his editor. She can decipher the information that has us confused. She can help the enemy. It is absolutely critical that the information doesn’t fall into infidel hands. We must find her and kill her. We thought we accomplished that task last night, but she wasn’t there. Ali, killing Diana Spellman is our most critical mission.”

  Chapter 42

  “Agent Bellamy is here to see you, Mr. Blake,” said one of our FBI guards on our secure intercom.

  Rick Bellamy walked in with a tall Middle Eastern looking guy.

  “Matt, Diana, allow me to introduce my friend, agent Akhbar of the CIA.”

  “Just call me Buster.”

  “Why do they call you Buster?” said Diana.

  “I hope you never get the chance to find out.”

  We walked into the spacious kitchen where Diana and I had laid out coffee, juices, and some snacks that one of our guards had gotten for us.

  The intercom sounded again. “Benjamin Weinberg is here to see you,” announced the agent.

  As soon as Bennie walked in, he, Buster, and Rick Bellamy exchanged bear hugs. Obviously these guys are old friends, I thought.

  “Buster is one of the most effective spies in the CIA,” said Bellamy. “He and I, along with Bennie, have been involved in some of the toughest operations you can ever imagine. He’s a great shot with a pistol, he knows how to get things done, and he speaks fluent Arabic.”

  We sat around the large table.

  “You two are obviously interested to find out what’s going on,” said Bellamy. “An attempt on your life tends to arouse curiosity.”

  “Yes, we’re somewhat interested,” I said. “Our engagement party got shot up and people were killed and injured. Thank God for that truck accident on I-80 or we wouldn’t be sitting here.”

  “I’ll get right to the point,” said Buster, “Diana is one of the most important targets al-Qaeda has focused on in a long time. They want Diana dead, and they’re willing to pull out all the stops to make it happen. Your engagement party is the case in point. I know Rick has filled you in on some of the details, but I’m going to lay it out more.”

  “Buster,” said Diana, “I really want to jump ahead and ask you a big question. Do you know who is after me, specifically? If you don’t know, it would appear that Matt and I will spend the rest of our lives in hiding.”

  “Well that’s the good news, Diana,” said Buster. “Yes, we do know who is involved, at least the people in command and control. Actually that’s very good news. See, this targeting of you isn’t some kind of fatwa or religious hit job. It’s a carefully planned assassination. When we take out the command and control, you’ll be able to lead normal lives. The lower echelon jihadis know nothing about the big plot, which is normal for an al-Qaeda operation, so they have no reason to harm you. Hell, they probably won’t even recognize your name. The sadistic thing about this c
onspiracy is the cleanup work they do. Every actor in the plot gets killed once he’s fulfilled his role. I know you and Rick have gone over the list of the dead from your late husband’s computer. The late Jim Spellman was really on to something, something big. That’s why he’s dead.”

  “So you do know who the murderers are,” I said. “What do you plan to do with them?”

  “I can’t go into that, Matt,” said Buster. “Good spooks are cautious spooks. I don’t want to burden you with names, especially since you wouldn’t recognize them anyway. But we know there are four of them, only four. They have hundreds of operatives, but the operation is controlled by only four people. We’ve gotten warrants from the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court, best known as the FISA court. We’re able to place tracking devices, record conversations, and put tails on the suspects.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Diana in a loud voice. “Wait a fucking minute, if you pardon my language. Your FISA warrants didn’t do shit to prevent what happened two days ago at our engagement party.”

  “I second Diana’s concern,” I said.

  “We just got the warrants yesterday,” said Buster. “Until the attack on your engagement party, we didn’t have sufficient evidence to get a warrant. After the attack, we got the warrant with no problem.

  “I should add to what Buster’s saying,” said Rick Bellamy. “The attorney who presented the application to the court was none other than my boss, Sarah Watson, the Director of the FBI. This matter is number one on our crowded agenda.”

  “Pardon me for being a pain-in-the-ass lawyer, but I have some questions,” I said. “So you track these scumbags, gather all sorts of evidence and then what? You arrest a guy, read him his rights, and try him in a criminal court for whatever crime you have the evidence. Hey, you guys are lawyers, just like me. We all know damn well that you have to get a conviction on evidence ‘beyond a reasonable doubt.’ These guys appear to be slick operators, not some lone wolf nut jobs like the Boston Marathon bombers. What if the judge throws out a case for insufficient evidence? What if a jury acquits them? Can you answer that for me?”

  “Then we kill the fuckers,” said Buster, “but you did not, I repeat, you did not hear that from me. Are we clear?”

  I looked at Rick Bellamy. He just closed his eyes and nodded. Holy shit, I thought, these guys play rough.

  “Let’s talk about the near term,” said Bellamy. “Diana, I strongly recommend that you leave your job at the university. Maybe you can get a leave of absence. I know that your large lawsuit against Gulf Oil settled. I have no idea how much it was for and I’m not asking. I’m just guessing that it was substantial, so money should not be a problem. Also, I can have you enrolled as a salaried provisional FBI agent, under a different name of course. Now I’m suggesting that you both move immediately to New York until this matter is closed. We can provide excellent accommodations. Bottom line, folks, Diana is a target, and we have to assume that you are too, Matt, for kidnapping as well as murder. I want you both close to counterterrorism headquarters where we can keep you safe. Diana, with your knowledge of Jim’s information, you’re the most important witness we could ever imagine. You’re also the most important target on al-Qaeda’s list, possibly ever.”

  “When do you need our answers, Rick?” I said.

  “As soon as possible, Matt, and I’m sure you understand why. I’d like to know today, if at all possible. Why don’t Buster, Bennie, and I go for a walk and let you two talk it over. Oh, and just so you know, we have a special unit for sudden relocations. You know it, of course, as the Witness Protection Program. I’ll assign guards who will check on your apartments every day to make sure your belongings are safe. We’ll also forward your mail. We’re good at this stuff. We’ll see you folks in a little while.”

  ***

  “What do you think, hon?”

  “Matt, my friggin head is spinning. Why don’t you argue the case to me while we’re sitting here?”

  “Okay, here’s the situation,” I said. “You and I are targets, big-time targets by big-time Islamist radicals. You’re a target for murder and I’m a target for kidnapping and probably murder as well. The closer we are to protection, the closer we are to living normal lives. I say we go to New York and take up whatever new identities these guys have dreamed up for us. Hey, we can use the time to plan the rest of our lives together.”

  “On that subject, Matt, what about our marriage plans? Are we going to have to wait for al-Qaeda or some other group of scumbags to allow us to get married?”

  “A wedding celebration and getting married are not exactly the same thing, hon. Suppose we planned a big wedding two months from now? After what happened at our engagement party, do you think anybody would show up?”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying we should get married as soon as possible while we’re in in New York, and worry about a big celebration party later. Let’s round up a couple of witnesses, go before a judge, and become husband and wife, forever and ever, till death do us part.”

  “You’re very persuasive, counselor. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 43

  Rick, Bennie and Buster returned to the apartment in just under an hour as planned.

  “Okay, it’s a go,” I said. “We’ll need some time to go to our apartments and pack.”

  “No way, Matt. You sure as hell can’t go back to your apartments alone, and if I send a team with you we’ll blow the cover. I have a substantial budget for this kind of operation. Don’t worry, we’ll replace whatever belongings you need in New York and place your Chicago apartments under active surveillance immediately. Oh, Buster has a couple of travelling gifts for you.”

  “Travelling gifts?” said Diana. “We hadn’t even told you we agreed to go.”

  “You two are smart, logical people,” said Buster. “It’s the only realistic choice and we knew you’d come to the right decision. So here are my gifts, courtesy of the CIA Clandestine Operations Department.”

  First, Buster pulled out a blond wig from a bag. He then produced two pairs of weird-looking eyeglasses.

  “Gee, it’ll be fun to be a blond. But Matt and I don’t wear glasses.”

  “They’re nonprescription. It’ll be like looking through a window. Matt, here’s a fake beard, but I suggest that you start to grow your own. And here are a couple of cushions designed to be worn around your waists. You two look like a couple of runway models you’re both in such good shape. We need to pork you up a bit.”

  “Welcome to the joint CIA/FBI Witness Protection Program folks,” said Rick Bellamy. “I suggest you look at it as an adventure.”

  “What time is our flight?” Diana said.

  “Whenever I tell the pilot to take off. A private FBI Gulfstream awaits us. Haven’t you guys ever watched Criminal Minds?”

  Chapter 44

  When we got to New York, Rick Bellamy brought us to our new secret location. It was an apartment in the Greenwich Village section of Manhattan, in a building next door to the one where Bellamy lived. Rick said they chose the building because it was defensible. My Marine training told me he was right. The entrance hallway was wide, with four alcoves to provide cover, excellent for a firefight if necessary. I couldn’t believe I was evaluating our new digs from a combat point of view, but our lives in the past few days had become strange, to say the least.

  The elevator let us out onto the fifth floor, and I immediately noticed that this area was defensible as well. Ours was the only apartment on the floor, and the entranceway provided protective alcoves as well, with a perfect line of sight at the elevator door, in case one of our bodyguards needed to shoot an uninvited guest. A desk and a leather chair occupied one of the alcoves, the area where our guards would be stationed.

  The apartment was large, with 3,000 square feet of space. It had four bedrooms and three baths. The kitchen, by apartment standards, was huge, with an eat-in dining area. The big living room window allowed a perfect view of W
ashington Square Park. One of the bedrooms was equipped with a treadmill, a weight machine, and a stationary bicycle. Also in the exercise room was a large trunk that the prior occupant had left behind.

  “In case you’re wondering,” said Rick, “the living room window is bulletproof.”

  “Home sweet home,” Diana said. “I’ll bet your interior decorator carries an assault rifle.”

  “She does,” said Rick.

  Rick then took us up a short flight of stairs to the rooftop garden. It was beautiful. A padded track surrounded the perimeter, and landscaped flower boxes were strategically placed throughout the garden, giving it an almost sculpted view. I noticed that our building was one of the tallest in the area, not allowing for a sniper to target us from a window, except for one building to the east. There was an opaque Plexiglas window affixed to the roofline facing that building.

  “Bulletproof?” I asked.

  “Of course,” said Rick. “You’ll enjoy this garden. It’s almost like having the suburbs just a few steps away.”

  “It’s definitely a great place, Rick,” said Diana. “But could you please explain what you have planned for us?”

  “You two will be busy. As our newly deputized FBI agent, Diana, you’ll be working every day at 26 Federal Plaza helping us decipher your late husband’s writings. Diana, you may be the key to helping us get inside this plot, whatever that plot may be. And Matt, I understand that you’ll be doing remote research and writing for Blake & Randolph.”

  “Yes, I discussed this with my father. Because Bill Randolph is still in the hospital, there’s no way would I leave my dad in a lurch. Of course I won’t be seeing clients, deposing witnesses, or trying cases, but I’ll be the firm’s chief researcher and brief writer. Technology makes long distance work a lot easier.”

  “And all electronic correspondence to you and from you will be fed through one of our agents,” said Bellamy. You can’t use your real name on any documents, I’m sure you understand.”